


Intersections

by apple_pi



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-07
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 13:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7389481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apple_pi/pseuds/apple_pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First times are difficult. Also, terrifying. Also fun, embarrassing, awkward, and weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first-ever Monaboyd. And it shows, oh dear. Wanders into dialect occasionally, requires massive suspension of disbelief, etc.

“Have you ever had cybersex?”

“…Did you call me at six fucking a.m. to ask me that question?”

“Have you?”

“On a Sunday?”

“...Well.”

“Well, what? Because if you called me at six fucking a.m. on a Sunday morning to ask me that, I’m getting on the next plane to L.A. to kick your arse.”

“As if you could.”

“With my hands tied behind my back.”

“With _my_ hands tied behind _my_ back, you might be able to kick my arse. Maybe.”

“Dominic.”

“…I’m so bo-o-o-o-ored. Didn’t feel like going out tonight. ... I’m lonely, Billy, I miss you,” and despite the high-pitched, girly parody, Billy can hear the truth in his friend’s words, and he sighs. It’s what, ten o’clock on a Saturday night in California?

“Awww, poor Dommie, misses his wee Scottish mate,” and he knows that despite the saccharine insincerity of his own voice, Dom will hear the sympathy.

“So have you? Ever had cybersex?”

“Christ, no, Dom, you know how slow I type. No reasonable woman could stand it.”

“Or man. Could be a man,” Dom pointed out cheerfully.

“Because it’s the Internet. But who cares, because... it’s the Internet.” Billy’s struggling to wake up; it’s a losing fight, at the moment.

“Yeah.”

Billy closes his eyes, feels himself drifting away. He opens them (nothing to see, the light-blocking curtains keep his bedroom dark as a tomb) and forces himself to say something. “So did you lose your virtual virginity this evening, Mr. Monaghan?” Billy says it in his telly interviewer voice, and Dom falls into character with practiced ease.

“Oh, of course not, Billy, I’m a healthy lad and a child of the Internet age. I lost my virtual virginity years ago.”

“So why are you not having cybersex right now, Mr. Monaghan? Why are you calling your hard-working friends on the other side of the Atlantic, who went to bed just a few hours ago?”

“Lost my Internet connection. Ah, but if I was having cybersex, I can assure you, I’d be doing it well.” Dom says this in exactly the tone of a commercial narrator, telling the world that this floor wax is the best: upper-class, fruity, full.

“Accomplished one-hand typer, are yeh?” Billy starts giggling when he says this, and so does Dom.

“That really is the only drawback,” he says.

“That’s why I prefer phone sex,” Billy drawls, getting his breath back.

“A far superior way of getting one’s rocks off.”

“God, what a phrase.”

“I know. Blame Elijah. I’m actually even better at phone sex than I am at cybersex.”

“Are you, my lad?” Billy’s still sleepy, and he has a morning hard-on of truly monumental proportions, and he kind of wishes that Dom would just get the fuck off the phone so he could take care of it and then fall back asleep.

“I figure it can always be my fallback career, since I obviously need to have something in mind.”

 _Uh-oh_. Distract, make fun, get Dom off the self-pity express. “Well, since your acting is such shite, I can’t imagine that your phone sex skills are really as good as you say they are.”

“Fuck you, Boyd.”

“What, you want to practice? I’ve already got morning wood, half your job’s done.” Billy snickers.

“Do you, now?”

“You have no idea.”

“Hmm.”

“…What?” Billy says, into the long quiet that follows Dom’s _hmm_... He says it mostly to keep himself awake.

“Just trying to decide what technique would work best on you.”

“Dominic, if you try to talk me off I’ll hang up so fast... I don’t need that particular set of images, ta-very-much.”

Dom snickers. “But you offered.”

“Dom.” Billy had been stroking himself, just a little, just because he’s not wearing anything and he’s alone in bed and hard and it feels good, but now he stops. And is irritated, but not irritated enough to hang up. “So do you have any auditions lined up?” Change the subject. Sound cheerful.

“Are you naked?”

“…I’m hanging up.”

“Don’t hang up, Bills, just answer the question.” Billy can absolutely hear the wickedness in Dom’s voice.

“Yes, Dom, I’m naked and I’m hard and it’s all for you.” _Sarcasm_. But at that instant a little film starts playing in his head, of Dom. Dom’s stomach, actually, which is hard and flat—almost concave—and muscular. In the film Dom’s the one lying on his back, and Billy’s staring at Dom’s stomach. This is quite disturbing.

“So you’re lying on your back—because of that big, lovely hard-on—and you’re naked in bed.”

“Dom.”

“Shuttup, Billy, I’m rehearsing. ...If I were there... I would be crawling under the covers with you—”

“Dominic.”

“—from the bottom of the bed. I know your feet are ticklish, so I won’t touch them.” Billy’s toes curl a little and he mutters a curse under his breath. “But you do have lovely legs, my wee Scottish mate, and I’d love to run my hands up your legs, from your ankles up your calves, over your knees and onto your thighs.”

“You’re such a fucking freak, Monaghan.”

“ _Shh_. I'd crawl up the bed between your legs—r’you touching yourself, Billy? You better be touching yourself, fucker, I don’t want this going to waste.”

Billy _is_ touching himself—when did his hand go back there?—and he puts his hand down, quickly, beside his thigh. “Perhaps _you_ should touch yourself. At least one of us could get off on this.”

“I am, you git,” and Dom’s voice is breathless with laughter. Billy doesn’t know whether to believe him or not, but the thought of him sitting somewhere in his dark flat, his hand on his cock, makes Billy close his eyes tightly for a second. “So, I’m crawling up between your legs. Now I’m kissing your calves—mmm, hairy legs—and then running my tongue over that little place just behind your knees.”

“Christ, Dom.” Now Billy doesn’t know what to think, because his legs actually twitched (and so did his cock), and he has his hand (the one not holding the phone) clenched onto the sheets under the cover, beside his thigh.

“Mmm. Billy. I’ve seen you naked, you know, and it’s quite a sight. I’ve even seen you hard—”

“When?” Billy actually squeaks this, to his own horror, and he feels his whole face scrunch up with dread, because he knows Dom will never let it go— _remember how you screamed like a girl when that rocket went off in your hands, Bills?_ As if that wasn’t bad enough.

And Dom’s laughing, yes. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Billy, how many times did I come over to your flat to sleep? And how much do you wear when you sleep? And do you bother to put on clothes when you go from your room to the toilet? Let’s just say I’ve seen you naked, which you knew, and add that I’ve seen you hard, which you now know, and really, no worries, mate. It’s lovely.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No, you’re not. Because now my tongue is moving up your thigh, and mmm, you taste good, Billy, just like I thought you would, your thighs taste good. That smooth little place on the inside of your thigh, you know, and you’re spreading your legs to give me more room...”

Billy’s hand has somehow migrated back onto his cock, and he doesn’t make a sound, but he sighs. 

“I’m taking your balls into my mouth, Bill,” Dom’s voice isn’t mocking now, it’s low and intent, “god, they taste good, they taste like you, just sweat and salt and you,” oh Jesus Billy can hear something, something that sounds like maybe Dom really is jerking off, the soft whisper of skin on skin, “I’m rolling them around in my mouth, sucking them in, running my tongue all over you,” Billy’s hand is moving now, some shift taking place, “and now I’m letting them out, but only because I need to taste your cock, Bills, I need to,” Billy isn’t trying to make sense of this, and the film of Dom in his head has definitely left his stomach far, far behind, “and ohhhh...” Dom’s voice shudders and drops further, even, “I’m licking you, up the shaft, from your balls to the head.”

Dom's definitely getting off, but Billy is, too, and Dom’s sudden silence nearly undoes him. “Dom?” he says, and hears Dom’s breathing, soft and fast.

“Do you want me to go on, Billy?”

“I... uh...” Billy’s eyes shut tight and he groans—frustration, desire, confusion.

“Oh god, Billy, I’m sliding my mouth all the way down, over your cock—you’re so hard, Billy are you hard?”

“Yes.”

“I’m moving my mouth, my head, up and down on your cock, my hands on are your hips, tight, and I’m moving my body, too, because sucking you has gotten me so hard, and I’m rubbing myself against the sheets, against your leg—”

Billy groans again, and now he can definitely hear Dom’s hand slapping up and down. His own hand is moving fast and hard, his hips thrusting his cock up into his fist, adding to the momentum, which is building up too quickly—

“—and I’m getting close—do y’want to fuck my mouth, Billy? Do you?”

“Yes—” 

“Fuck my mouth, Billy, look down and look at my face, my eyes are closed, my cheeks are hollowed out from sucking you, push yourself deep, c’mon, tell me, tell me, tell—”

“I’m fucking your mouth, fucking it so hard,” Billy gasps.

“Are you coming? I’m so close socloseohgod—”

“Fucking your mouthohfuckyeah _please_ —”

“Push it deeperBillydeepernowfuckohhh—”

“Ohgodohfuckyesyesyeahnow—”

“Billy—”

“Dom...”

...

...

Billy’s hand and stomach are sticky and he’s breathing hard. He can hear Dom breathing, too. And then, after a while, he can’t.

...

“Billy?”

“What?”

“Um...”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Billy pushes the sheet back to keep it free of his belly and lies there for a moment, unmoving. His body feels like it’s made entirely of cooked pasta, and his brain doesn’t feel much sharper. He’s confused and maybe angry and definitely... well. Confused.

“I think you could have that fallback career,” Billy offers, tentatively.

Dom snorts, and then they’re both laughing, slightly desperately, yes, but laughing at least, and this Billy can deal with, this he can handle.

“Well, thank god for good reviews,” Dom says finally. 

“Maybe you can work as a phone sex provider and I can get a job as a reviewer.”

“Excellent plan, excellent. …Billy?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to... you know.”

“I know.”

...

“Bills.”

“Yes, Dominic?”

“Are you mad?”

Billy blows out a breath and rolls over for a tissue from the nightstand. “Nooo, I’m not mad. Always knew you were a pervert.” The other end of the phone is almost silent, but Billy's known Dom for too long. “Are you laughing, you wanker?”

“You just didn’t know you were a pervert too.”

“Shite.” Billy can’t help the fit of giggles.

“Sorry, sorry.” 

“…Dommie?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m sleepy as fuckall.”

“You sure you don’t want to cuddle?”

“ _Jay_ sus Christ, you're such a fuckwit,” but Billy’s laughing his ass off, his stomach hurts from it and he misses Dom, misses being able to just hang out with him (though he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to look at him again). Who else could embarrass him so completely and then make him feel better, all in a few sentences?

“All right, all right. Just... well, you know. Sorry.” Dom giggles again, an uncomfortable titter.

“Just shut up about it, will you?” Billy’s smiling, though. 

“I’ll never mention it again.”

“Until you’re drunk, and you think it’ll make a good story.”

“Well. Yeah.”

“Listen, just call me or e-mail later. I was up until about one-thirty, so I’m not really human yet.”

“Are you still coming next month?”

“As far as I can tell I just came.”

Dom actually gasps into the phone before he starts laughing. “That was so wrong, Billy. That was just... on so many levels...” 

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Now get off the phone, you wanker, and let me sleep.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“All about you,” Billy coos, and then the connection is broken.

But what’s he supposed to do when he wakes up two hours later, with an aching erection and Dom’s voice whispering obscenities into his mind’s ear? I didn’t mean it literally, he thinks, and groans as he tries to erase the voice—and its persistent echo—from his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy's in LA.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“What?” Dom swivels around to see Elijah smirking at him. 

“You’re so gay, Dom.”

“Like you’re not. And I am not. …I’m bi.”

Elijah leans against the bar and looks at what Dom has been looking at, which is Billy, dancing with a girl. The lights on the dance floor glitter and flare, and Billy’s grinning at her. She’s taller than him, which he doesn’t appear to mind, and now he’s kissing her.

Dom tears his eyes away and takes a drink, aware that Elijah’s still smirking. Elijah reaches over and snags the bottle from him; Dom doesn’t watch as the younger man drinks half in one long pull. 

“For Chrissakes, Dom, why don’t you do something about it?”

Dom glances back at the dance floor. The music’s changing, from a slow, hard grind to a faster techno beat, and he knows Billy won’t stay out much longer. He and the girl are still glued together, but as he (and Elijah) watch, the kiss is broken. Billy’s saying something to her, and she’s nodding, smiling. More talk, and then a flicker of paper—she’s giving him her phone number. She vanishes into the crowd on the other side of the room, and Billy pushes his way through twisting bodies to the bar. 

Dom looks hard at Elijah. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Billy’s there, then, and Elijah’s wry look smooths into a smile at him. Billy wipes his mouth and grins at them both. “Lovely girl.”

“Got her number?”

“What, this?” Billy fishes the card from his jeans (they’re quite tight, Dom notices, not for the first time that night) and slaps it onto the bar. He’s laughing. “Give me that,” and Dom watches as Billy finishes the beer Elijah half-killed.

Dom feels lonely, drops his eyes to study the scarred wood of the bar. He can feel his elbows drawing in, shoulders hunching, protecting his body—from what? Elijah on one side of him, cheerful and oblivious (seemingly oblivious); Billy on the other side, all quick, neat movement, looking alertly around for something. Probably that girl.

“Let’s go,” Elijah says suddenly, and Dom doesn’t see the look he and Billy exchange.

“Yeah, all right.” Billy has his arm, turning Dom round and they’re thrusting through the crowd to get to the door.

Outside is L.A. in the winter—about 50 degrees, chilly and clammy. The sky’s an orange blur overhead, and they cross the parking lot to stand at the curb. Elijah’s looking up and down the street for a cab; there’s plenty of traffic, despite the hour.

“You left that girl’s card on the bar,” Dom says suddenly.

Billy is still holding his arm. “Ah, she was lovely, but not really my type.”

Elijah is waving, and a cab crunches to a stop in front of them. “What _is_ your type?” he says as they climb in. He says it over his shoulder; Dom and Billy are in the backseat and Elijah’s beside the driver, and somewhere during the climb inward, Billy dropped Dom’s arm ( _of course he did, you idiot_ , Dom thinks) and he misses it, the warm hand curled easily around his upper arm.

Billy waits for Elijah to give the driver the address (to Billy’s hotel, then), before answering. “Who knows? Dommie here is the closest I’ll probably ever get.” He grins and Dom feels his own face stretch into an uncomfortable, false smile. Elijah raises one eyebrow—damn, he looks elegant when he does that—but he doesn’t answer, just smiles faintly and turns back around.

None of them speak on the way to the hotel. It’s downtown, and the sky’s even more sulfurous here, an unhealthy color not usually found in nature, weird light glaring over quieter, wider streets. Billy pays for the cab, over Elijah’s objections, and then all three of them are crossing the lobby (filtered light, soft music) and in the elevator.

Billy hums along to the muzak until Elijah hits him on the back of the head, and then they’re in Billy’s suite, a little apartment, really. There’s a kitchen and a living room, and a bedroom. Billy strides across the room and closes the drapes, closes out L.A.’s burning sky. “How can you stand to live here?” he asks rhetorically, of Elijah or Dom, one or the other. 

Elijah pushes Dom easily onto the couch, then seats himself in a fat, soft armchair. Billy looks at them both and then goes into the tiny kitchen. “Seriously, how can you stand it?” Dom can hear him clinking around in there, but he has his head back on the arm of the couch and his boots propped heavily on the coffee table. He regards the ugly hotel-room artwork that hangs over him for a minute, then closes his eyes.

“It’s not that bad,” Elijah says. “It’s where the jobs are, anyway.” There’s a barely visible wince as he recalls that Dom hasn’t had much to do since he got here last spring. “And there’s a lot to do—you liked that club well enough.”

“Please.” Billy comes back in with a bottle of whiskey and three water glasses. “That club was hideous.” He sits down next to Dom and gives each glass a splash of tea-colored alcohol. “Take your glasses,” and Elijah reaches for his; Dom doesn’t move.

“Wake up, Dommie,” says Billy, and pokes him.

Dom lifts his head. “God, I don’t want that shite,” he says.

“You’ll take it and you’ll drink it and you’ll say _thank you_ politely,” Billy replies, and Dom does take it. He holds the glass loosely, watching the whiskey slosh around the bottom.

“Sláinte,” Billy says, and all three lift their glasses and sip. The whiskey tastes awful to Dom—it always does, at first, but it feels good once it gets to his stomach, a pleasant burn. He didn’t drink much at the bar—half a beer before it was finished by Billy and Lij—but he hasn’t eaten in a long time, either. When did he last eat?

“You didn’t eat at dinner,” Elijah answers, and Dom realizes he must have said it aloud. Billy’s up again, disappearing into the kitchen, and Dom sips more of the whiskey. Elijah looks at him steadily.

“What’re you looking at?” Dom says mildly.

“Nothing,” says Elijah, and he follows Bill into the kitchen. Dom finishes his little splash of whiskey and pours another shot.

“They consider this food? What the fuck is this?” Billy’s voice.

Elijah’s laughing. “It’s fine, Billy, it’s good. Anyway, who are you to talk? No Brit could ever cook worth a shit anyway.”

 _I can cook_ , Dom thinks in protest, and finishes the whiskey. He pours one more finger, and is gratified to hear Billy defending his honor. “Dom c’n cook. Better than you, anyway. So, you say this will actually taste like food?”

“It’ll be fine.” More laughter, and Dom tunes out the cheerful voices. Elijah pokes his head out of the kitchen, then withdraws again.

Time passes, and the whiskey doesn’t taste bad anymore. Dom’s on splash number four, now, or is it five? Possibly six. Whatever. Each sip traces a warm path down his throat to his belly. Burning, Dom thinks. Like the sky. Billy and Elijah are talking, but now their voices are too low to understand, a comforting murmur. It doesn’t matter that he can’t hear the words; Dom can still separate Billy’s voice from Elijah’s without effort. He thinks of Billy’s voice, groaning his name into the phone, and of hearing his breathing go sharp and staccato as he comes... _Shut up shut up shut up_ , he tells his cock. It doesn’t work any better now than it did the last hundred times he tried it. He forces his mind away from that phone call and back into the hotel. Billy’s voice is higher than Elijah’s, and even wordless, there’s something Scotch about it—inflection, rolls. Missing consonants, inserted vowels.

Scotch, Dom thinks, and likes the way that word sounds. He says it aloud. “Scotch.” Butterscotch. Scotch whiskey. It’s nice, a nice word in a nice accent, spoken with a nice voice. Coming from a nice mouth. Billy’s mouth. Billy’s mouth, moving lazily against the girl’s mouth at the club, quick shine of wet lips and flash of pink tongue. Billy’s mouth, against Dom’s mouth... something Dom’s never seen or felt, but has imagined at least a thousand times.

Dom’s drunk. _Did I think that?_ he thinks, but looking up, he sees Billy standing over him, a plate of steaming food in each hand, grinning. “Dom’s drunk,” Billy repeats to Elijah’s _What? _from the next room.__

__“He can’t be,” Elijah says, coming in with his own food. “He only had that little bit of whiskey—”_ _

__Billy settles beside Dom and puts the plates on the coffee table, unceremoniously shoving Dom’s booted feet to the floor. “I’d say he had more than a little,” Billy replies, and picks up the Glenfiddich. He inspects the bottle and puts it back down. “Ah, Dommie, Dommie, what shall we do w’yeh?” He plucks the glass from Dom’s hand and gives it to Elijah. “Water.” Then he sits back and pokes and prods at Dom until he’s sitting up. Billy puts the plate in Dom’s lap. “Now eat, y’daft wanker.”_ _

__Dom eats. “This is good,” he says around a mouthful._ _

__“It’s something called Chicken Helper,” Billy informs him, taking a sip of whiskey and then a bite of his own food. “And it goes reasonably well with single-malt scotch.”_ _

__“Scotch. Scotch. What a nice word.” Dom beams at Billy, who rolls his eyes._ _

__“Elijah, water!”_ _

__“There’s none in the fridge,” Elijah replies from the kitchen._ _

__“Just get tap water, fer Chrissakes, this is a civilized country, we’re not in fucking Brazil.”_ _

__Dom eats another bite. There’s cheese, and there’re noodles, and bits of shredded chicken. Elijah reappears with the water, and Dom drinks it obediently. He wants more whiskey, but the non-schnockered portion of his brain recalls hangovers and dehydration, and so he drinks all the water, and another glass Elijah gets him. And eats some more, so that after a half-hour (of being quiet and eating and listening to Billy and Elijah talk) he feels a bit less woozy._ _

__Until he tries to stand up. “Whoops,” he says, sitting back down._ _

__Billy looks resigned. “I’ll help him,” he says, and hauls Dom to his feet, then guides him to the bathroom. He stands in the door while Dom empties his bladder._ _

__“Didn’t even splash,” Dom informs him proudly._ _

__“Congratulations.” Billy’s voice is dry, but his face is affectionate as Dom zips up and washes his hands._ _

__“Close the door,” Dom says. “No, no, with you on this side of it. I have to tell you something.”_ _

__Billy raises one eyebrow, but obeys. The bathroom is big, for a hotel, and Dom has to walk three steps to get to Billy, his boots heavy on the tile floor. “Clomp clomp clomp,” he says out loud, and grins._ _

__This is a bad idea, his non-intoxicated bit says, but Dom doesn’t care. He leans close to Billy. “Your eyes are very green,” he says._ _

__“So I’m told,” says Billy patiently. He doesn’t seem to be disturbed by the fact that Dom’s face is half an inch from his own._ _

__“They’re nice.” Dom tilts his head a little, and his eyes flicker to Billy’s mouth, which is closed softly in a little smile. “So is your mouth.”_ _

__“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” _He’s going to give me such shit for this,_ Dom thinks, and it makes him grin._ _

__“No,” says Dom. “I just…” He closes his eyes and leans forward a fraction, until his lips brush Billy’s. He stays there for a moment, not moving, not breathing: just the soft press of his lips against Billy’s little smile._ _

__“Dominic.” Billy’s gentle voice, speaking his name, and his lips moving against Dom’s. Dom is hard, suddenly, and terrified, and heat sweeps over his whole body. He can’t open his eyes, can’t move, and Billy embraces him. “C’mon.” Billy puckers his lips a little, a sweet kiss, a peck, but not a promise, and pulls Dom’s head down to his shoulder. He holds him for several breaths. Dom feels at once safe, protected, and vulnerable, naked. He can smell Billy, a blend of cigarette smoke from the club and faint spicy cologne and beneath that just Billy, Billy-scent. Dom’s whole body is tight and tense, and he nuzzles his head into the dark, warm crook of Billy’s neck, and feels Bill’s hand move up and down his back, soothing. “C’mon,” Billy says again, “let’s go back in the living room.”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__Billy’s hand never stops stroking his back. “Why not?”_ _

__“Because I meant it.” He doesn’t have to say what. Billy knows. Billy always knows, and that’s why… that’s why he tried to kiss him._ _

__“All right,” says Billy. “But you’re too drunk right now, my Dommie. You’re wound up tight as a guitar string, and you’ve had too much of my whiskey, and we can talk about it later.”_ _

__“I…” Dom relaxes against Billy, boneless suddenly, and feels his friend’s compact body brace to take his weight. “All right, Bills.” The words come out on a sigh. Billy’s still rubbing his back, and Dom feels him turn his head, feels Billy’s sharp nose pressing into his neck, and his sigh, a warm exhalation against Dom’s skin. “Let me sleep here, on your couch,” Dom says, and it’s a plea, a plea for things to still be good between them._ _

__“Of course,” says Billy, and Dom straightens. “Couldn’t let you go off home alone like this.”_ _

__“I’ve gone off home alone in worse shape than this,” Dom says, smiling, not meeting Billy’s eyes._ _

__“Have you really?” Billy’s words, and the slightly sad note in them, draw Dom’s face up and when he does finally meet Billy’s eyes, he’s staggered by his own relief, for there’s nothing closed off there, nothing gone, nothing killed by this brief drama. “What a sad git you are, to be sure,” Billy adds, and smiles, and they leave the bathroom._ _

__“I’m an adult, you know,” Dom says as he follows him to the living room. “There’s your child.” He points to Elijah, who sticks his tongue out at them both._ _

__“If I’m a child then you’re an accessory to a crime, considering how much beer etcetera you’ve given me in the last five years,” says Elijah, and he stands up. “I’m headed home. Dom, you wanna share a cab?”_ _

__“No, Dommie’s gonna crash on my couch,” says Billy easily._ _

__“All right, call me later,” says Elijah. Hugs and slaps and shoves and he’s gone, and Billy’s opening closet doors, looking for spare pillows and blankets as Dom slowly pries off one boot and then the other, then strips to his boxers and t-shirt._ _

__“Do you want to sleep in those?” Billy indicates Dom’s leather cuffs._ _

__“Oh. No.” Dom unlaces them and sets them on the coffee table. He pushes his hands through his hair, spiky with gel, and rubs his eyes._ _

__Billy points, and Dom moves to the chair while his best mate spreads sheets and blankets messily over the couch. “Go get yourself more water,” Billy instructs._ _

__“I already have to piss again,” Dom protests, but he takes his glass into the bathroom, where he does what he needs to, then refills the glass from the tap. He gulps down half the water right then, and refills it. “Is this your toothbrush?” he calls._ _

__“Yes, and you’d better keep y’r hands off it, Monaghan. Look in the medicine cabinet, maybe the hotel has one.”_ _

__They do, and there’s also a little packet of Tylenol. _Paracetamol_ , Dom thinks, _why can’t we all just call it the same thing?_ He pops it open and swallows the two little pills, then brushes his teeth with the hotel toothbrush and Billy’s toothpaste. He washes his face for good measure, since the eyeliner he put on earlier is smeared. He wanders back into the living room clutching the glass and watches as Billy folds the blanket back. _ _

__“You look younger than Elijah,” Billy says with a quirk of his mouth, sitting on the coffee table. He’s kicked off his trainers, and his socks are worn._ _

__“I feel older than Ian,” Dom replies, and settles on the couch, stretched full-length. “I’m sleepy.”_ _

__“Me, too. S’late.”_ _

__“No, I mean, it’s a good thing, I haven’t been sleeping much lately,” Dom murmurs._ _

__“Sleep as long as you want, Dom.” Billy rubs his hand through Dom’s hair. “G’night.” And he’s gone, leaving Dom alone. He closes the door to the little bedroom, but the walls are thin and as he drifts off to sleep, Dom can hear Billy getting undressed and humming to himself. Something familiar. A Tom Petty song, maybe. Then the song fades and Dom’s gone, into dreams and comfortable darkness._ _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reciprocity is a fine and lovely thing.

“’Lo?”

“Billy.”

“Dom?”

“Yeah. You awake?”

“Nngh.” Billy rolls over and looks at the bedside clock. Ten thirty-seven. So it’s been seven hours, more or less... wait a minute. Didn’t Dom go to sleep on the sofa? “Where are you?”

“In the other room.”

Billy can’t process this. “So you’re calling me...”

“From the living room. Yeah.” There’s a line of white light around the drapes, but Billy isn’t looking at that, because it hurts him to do so.

He struggles to wake up, but mornings are not really his thing ( _as anyone who spent two years with me at 4 a.m. should fucking well know_ , he thinks irritably), and... “Nngh.” Repetitive, perhaps, but the best he can do.

“So Billy, let’s talk.”

“I have to pee.”

“Okay, go ahead. I’ll wait.”

The whole situation is too surreal to deal with, so Billy grunts and drops the phone, then stumbles into the dark bathroom. There’s a door linking it to his room, so he doesn’t have to (a) put on underwear or (b) look over and see Dom lying on the couch with a telephone pressed to his ear. Which is good, thinks Billy as he relieves himself, because that might make it seem as though this conversation is actually happening, and Billy’s half-convinced that the whole thing is taking place somewhere in the recesses of his cerebellum. He shakes off, runs his hands perfunctorily under the faucet, drinks a couple gulps of the tap water, and crawls back under the covers. 

Something’s wrong.

“Billy? Billy?” There’s a tinny voice coming from somewhere near his left shoulder.

Oh. The phone. Billy’s hand flutters weakly in the covers and drags the little rectangle to his head. “M’here.”

“Billy, are you awake yet?”

“No.”

“I thought going to the bathroom would wake you up.”

“Mmm. Nope.” Billy burrows into the mattress. “Bladder’s empty, body wants more sleep.”

Dom sighs. “Billy, I wanna talk to you.” Billy’s body is mostly asleep, it’s true, but certain parts are associating Dom’s voice with other things, other activities.

“You c’n talk,” Billy murmurs, and rolls onto his side.

“But you have to listen, okay?”

“Mmm. Listening to whatever you say, Dommie.” 

“Jesus.” An indrawn breath. “Watch how you say that, Bills. Sounds a bit... erm... kinky.” Billy can hear Dom’s smile.

Billy’s smiling, too, eyes closed, hand sliding down over his belly. “You started it.”

“I know, I know. And—” 

There’s a long silence. Billy comes slightly more awake. Awake enough to realize he should pay attention. “What, Dommie?”

“I should wait until you’re awake.”

“Okay.” This is the coward’s way out, and some miniscule part of Billy knows it, but really, the covers are warm, and Dom’s voice is soothing, despite the little thrum of anxiety running through it, and Billy just wants to sleep. He was awake for about 20 hours yesterday, after all.

Dom sighs again, but he sounds amused, not irritated. “All right then. G’bye.”

“Bye.”

Dom starts laughing, Billy can hear him clearly before the phone cuts out and then faintly, through the wall. He pushes the phone sideways until he hears it clatter to the floor, then curls into a ball and goes back to sleep.

*

_Mmmm_. Billy thinks it, and then says it: “Mmmm.”

“Billy?”

It’s Dom’s voice, combined with his warm weight against Billy’s back, and his hand rubbing little circles on Billy’s neck, and so Billy says it again: “Mmmm.”

“Are you ready to wake up yet?”

“Nope.” Billy tries to turn over, but Dom’s on top of the blankets, pinning them, and he has to work at it. Finally he’s facing Dom, and he blinks sleepily at him. “What time is it?” Christ, but Dom looks good. He’s wearing his boxer shorts, and that’s all, and he must’ve showered because his hair is sticking up in damp licks all over his head. 

“About noon.” Dom looks uncomfortable.

“Did you call me earlier?” Billy’s rapidly coming awake, and feels the first stirrings of recklessness, or maybe it’s just lust. Or maybe they’re the same thing.

“Yes.” Dom grins, and Billy smiles back at him.

“You’re an idjit,” he says. It doesn’t matter whether it’s insanity or desire, or whether his desire is insane. Billy’s tired of thinking about Dom and not knowing.

“I’m a _what?_ ”

“F’you want to seduce me, this is a lot more likely to work than the phone.”

Dom’s jaw drops. “I, uh—”

“Lighten up, Monaghan.” Billy leans forward and rests his forehead against Dom’s chest. “Make y’r move or let me sleep.” Dom’s whole body has gone still, and this is practically unprecedented. Dominic simply doesn’t stop—moving, talking, jittering, wriggling. Billy smiles to himself. “Well?”

“I, uh… Shit.” Dom sounds a little panicky. “Look at me, Bills.”

When Billy raises his head, their noses are practically touching. Dom licks his lips nervously and Billy knows that no matter what comes out of his mouth next, someone’s getting kissed. “I’m looking.”

And Billy doesn’t really mean it to, but his voice comes out husky and rough and hard, and before he knows it Dom’s mouth is on his and he doesn’t have to worry about what his mate will say next or who’ll kiss whom.

Soft lips, moving over his, and then the fierce intrusion of Dom’s slippery tongue, which tastes just fucking delicious, and contrasted to that the rough scratch of his short beard against Billy’s cheek and chin—Billy makes a sound, deep in his throat, and Dom seems to agree with whatever that sound says, because he makes one, too, and he has one hand pressed suddenly against the back of Billy’s head, twined in his short hair so that even if Billy wanted to break this kiss he couldn’t.

He doesn’t want to.

“Jesus,” Dom gasps when he finally comes up for air, and Billy heartily concurs but he can’t talk.

Partly that’s because he’s busy sucking in air (finally), and partly it’s because his brain has been completely bypassed. All blood in his body has departed for parts south, and there’s none left to direct his speech centers. So he struggles to sit up, tugging desperately at the covers to get free, then wraps his arms around Dom and pulls him down.

God, his mouth. Teeth and lips and tongue, and tasting it, sweet Jesus, tasting the silky wet satin just inside Dom’s lips, and then Dom’s tongue in his mouth, plundering him, pushing him back and further down, half-against the headboard, Dom crawling up over him, on his hands and knees over Billy. Billy’s holding him, clutching him, this is like drowning, it’s nothing remotely like kissing a woman, it’s harder and hotter and infinitely more intense. Is that because Dom is a man or because Dom is _Dom_? Billy doesn’t know, can’t decide, doesn’t give a damn as long as it doesn’t stop.

Then it does, and he makes a small, needy sound, a little whine of protest as Dom breaks away. But it’s only so Dom can kiss Billy’s neck (Billy cranes his head back and his hands slide up to Dom’s head without conscious volition, like they’re magnetized), Dom’s mouth hot and wet on his skin, and he’s talking: “Billy oh god Billy, Christ” and there’re kisses between each word, licks. Billy whimpers, arches his back, wants Dom against his body. He bucks beneath Dom, seeking more contact, and Dom obliges, letting his knees slide down (how convenient that they push the covers away, how fabulously wonderful that Billy’s naked, and why’s Dom still wearing his boxers?) as his lean, solid body presses down against Billy’s.

“Billy, wait, ohwaitwait, just, hold on—” Dom stops kissing him, curls around Billy’s compact, shuddering form, buries his head in Billy’s neck, holding him still, quieting him. It takes a minute, for Billy’s far gone, but he does stop whimpering and moving after a moment or two. 

“Dominic, you fucker, if you stop now it will be justifiable homicide, Christ Jesus, goddam cocktease—” When Billy’s voice comes back it’s with a vengeance, but his hands are tight on Dom, holding him close.

“I’m not stopping, Billy,” Dom says into his neck.

“So go _on_.” Billy pushes his hips up and their erections grind against one another. Dom groans and thrusts down, hard, stealing Billy’s voice again and forcing him to be still.

“I just want to slow down a little.” Dom’s breathing isn’t quite regular, and his face, when he raises it to Billy’s, is sweat-sheened and a bit dazed. “I want you to enjoy this. I want to make sure things aren’t going too fast for you.”

Billy swallows, licks his lips. “Did I sound as though I might not be enjoying myself?”

“No.” Dom admits it with a grin. “But hell, Billy, I thought this would scare you. I don’t want you to have regrets... in the morning. Y’know?”

Billy’s eyes flick up to the bedside clock. “Look at that. It’s afternoon already. Completely impossible to have any regrets at this point.”

“Billy!”

“Dommie, do we have to have this talk right this instant?”

Dom pushes just a little with his hips, and Billy’s eyes nearly roll back in his head. “Yes. I would say that we are just about at the point of no return, so we had sure as _fuck_ better have this talk right this instant.”

Billy growls, and Dom laughs at him. It’s pure joy, that laugh, and Billy’s eyes snap open again as a silly grin spreads across his face in response. “Oh, all right then, you wanker. What d’you want to say?”

“Okay. Um, right.” Dom seems to be having a hard time getting started now.

“Christ, Dom.”

“Sorry, sorry. First of all—is this all okay? Are you okay? Are we—y’know, Billy ‘n’ Dom—are we okay?”

“I personally am quite okay. I think you would be if you took off your pants.”

“Billy.”

“Yes, Dominic, we’re okay. No, Dominic, I’m not scared. Or rather, I’m terrified, but my cock has taken over, as my brain had a seizure a few moments ago, and my cock is fully in favor of everything we’re doing, and informs me that my brain will be on board again soon, and less terrified once we’ve actually done it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Are we done now?”

“Erm, no. Gotta ask the standard question: Had unprotected sex?”

Billy’s startled, a little, both because the question jars him from the lovely position of being completely in the grip of lust, and because he hadn’t thought of it himself. “Erm, no. Let me think.” He really does think, with an effort. “No. I’ve been with four girls in the last year, and all with condoms. And I had a check-up two months ago and everything was squeaky clean.” He looks questioningly at Dom. “And... you?”

Dom’s eyes are clear and grey and solemn. “Squeaky clean. Had a check-up about three weeks ago. And honestly,” his eyes wander away, “I haven’t had much sex in the last little... you know. Eternity.” He smiles sheepishly.

Billy runs his hands through Dom’s hair, and for a moment the simple naturalness of the sensation almost sidetracks him: desire equals motion equals fulfillment. So easy... But— “Why not much sex, Dommie? God knows if you can seduce me...” He’s smiling.

Dom smiles in return, but his eyes still don’t meet Billy’s. “Oi, I don’t know. Just... well. It’s been a rough year, really, in some ways. I’ve been depressed, some. Didn’t feel like going out. Felt misplaced.” Billy just nods. “It’s better now,” Dom adds. “I’ve finally been getting some real scripts, figuring it out. I needed to. Needed to do it.”

“Well, good then.” Billy lifts his head to plant a small kiss on Dom’s chin. “Now.” He seeks Dom’s eyes, gets them. “As for feeling misplaced. I think that if you move just about an inch to the left, you will be perfectly placed...” He pushes his pelvis up into Dom’s, a quick little jolt. “And take off the goddamn boxers.”

“Billy.” It’s a sigh, a little sound of desire, and it makes Billy’s heart start pounding again, but Dom isn’t quite done. “No, wait.”

“Are you nearly done using that mouth for talking?”

Dom laughs at that, an honest laugh. “Yes! I just wanted to say... We don’t have to do this. We can go slow, as slow as you want. We could just, I don’t know, mess around. Keep kissing.” His eyes are smoky, and they are burning Billy up. “I like kissing you.”

“Dominic.” Billy summons up all his acting talent to make his voice sound something like normal. “Do I look like a woman?”

Dom gapes for a moment. “No.”

“Do I feel—” strategic hip wriggle— “like a woman?”

“Christ... No.”

“All right then, Dommie. I’m not a woman, I’m a man, and as such, I’m horny all the fucking time, and when I’m horny, I want to fucking come, and right now I’m horny with you, and if you do not—” _push_ — “hurry—” _hiproll_ — “the fuck up—” _thrust_ — “I’m going to have to kill you.”

“First off, you have clearly not been hanging around with the right women,” Dom begins, but Billy growls again (false-fierce) and Dom stops and laughs. “Oh, well, with an invitation like that...” 

His mouth again, hard on Billy’s, and he’s moving against Billy’s body. Billy’s hands skitter over his back, down to his pants and then he’s pushing at the waistband, fingers scrabbling to get under it. Dom’s tongue stills for a moment as he hunches slightly, moving up so Billy can reach further. “Wait, just let me—” He’s panting, and he rolls off Billy for a moment and rids himself of the boxers in a violent motion. He’s back on Billy a heartbeat later— _and that must be fast_ , Billy thinks, considering how fast his heart is going—and working his way down Billy’s body.

God, hot wet mouth on Billy’s neck (and Billy’s voice is back: “Oh god, god oh god”) then Dom’s hands move over his chest, fingers brushing lightly through the soft wiry hair, and he’s wriggling further down, lips and tongue suddenly vividly _there_ on one nipple. Billy leaps like he’s been shocked, practically shrieking, and Dom grins as his teeth close gently on the tiny, hard nub of Billy’s nipple, quick groaning laugh as Billy twists beneath him. Then Billy shudders as Dom’s mouth kisses down his belly, a quick swirl of his tongue in Billy’s navel (“Christ that ticklesfeelsgood”) and the soft line of hair leading down from there. Dom traces it slowly with his tongue (“Fuck ohfuckohfuck”) and then, pinning Billy’s hips tightly with his hands, Dom goes down on him in one swift slippery movement.

“OhgodDom—Dom” is all Billy can say, and then there are only half-words and high, hard, repetitive sounds coming from his mouth, falling from his lips, drawn out by the swift, tight motion of Dom’s mouth on his cock.

Dom holds him down, his head moving up and down, tongue lapping at the underside of Billy’s tight, heavy cock, throat constricting in an involuntary swallow as he takes it deep. His beard scrapes softly against the tender skin inside Billy’s thighs, and Billy cries out before he goes silent, the big muscles in his thighs rigid, hands twisted into Dom’s hair as he comes, thrusting upward into Dom’s mouth. Dom takes it all, swallowing convulsively (“Ohhhhfuck” a helpless wail as one more thrust is wrenched from Billy) and then gently letting Billy’s softening cock slide from his mouth. He licks it once, grins at Billy’s whimpershudder, and then crawls up to lie beside him.

“Happy now?” Dom’s smiling, lying on his side to look at Billy, who’s sprawled bonelessly across the mattress.

Billy slides his eyes sideways to look at Dom. “Yeah. Happy about covers it.” His whole body is sheened with sweat, and he moves one hand to grasp Dom’s after a moment. “Thank you.”

“Mmm.” Dom runs his free hand over Billy’s stomach. “My pleasure, I assure you.” He leans over to taste the salty skin. “Must say, Bills, wouldn’t have pegged you as such a vocal critter.”

“I’m a singer. I’m all about the vocal.”

“It’s sexy as hell.” 

Billy blushes, a rosy flush that he can feel warming his cheeks and nose. “And how do you sound when you come, Mr. Monaghan?” Billy shifts to face him, letting go of Dom so he can prop his head up with his hand.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I think I would, at that.” Billy leans forward to kiss Dom’s mouth. He tastes himself there, and nearly moans into Dom’s mouth. Instead he concentrates on what he is doing. Tongue sliding around Dom’s tongue, and one hand sliding down his chest. A brief pinch at his nipples (Dom flinches and Billy laughs into his mouth, silently) and then his hand is on Dom’s belly, that stomach, the one he has been fantasizing about involuntarily ( _not involuntarily anymore_ , he thinks with certainty). He rubs his hand over it, feels Dom’s muscles tighten and shiver, and then slides his fingers through the sweet trail of dark hair leading to Dom’s cock.

He’s hard, so hard, and there’s a drop of clear fluid just at the tip of his cock. Billy runs his finger over Dom’s taut, tight head, gathering that moisture, and then he breaks his mouth’s seal over Dom’s and puts his finger into his own mouth. Dom watches this with glazed eyes, so dark they’re nearly black, then grabs Billy’s hand and puts it firmly onto his cock.

Billy grins. “Mmm, Dommie, you’re practically there already,” he murmurs into Dom’s ear, and Dom groans and makes a movement that might have been a nod, except that Billy squeezes, and Dom shudders instead. Billy looks down, and the sight of his own hand on Dom is exciting, it is fucking _hot_ , and he draws in a shaky breath, whispers: “I’m gonna jerk you off, Dommie, wanna see you come all over my hand, all over your belly.” He strokes up and down, a tight grip, the loose, silky skin echoing his whisper. Dom’s lying back on his elbows now, exposed to Billy’s greedy gaze, and Billy devours him with his eyes, pumping faster, a little twist of the wrist. Dom makes a sharp little sound— “ah—” and Billy loves this, feels a heady rush of power and fierce joy, strokes faster and then suddenly slower, two fingers moving down to rub deeply around Dom’s sac, which tightens and then relaxes again, and Billy goes back to stroking, goes back to his hoarsely whispered monologue: “Fuck, Dom, you’re so hard, god, I love how you feel in my hand, love the way you look all spread out for me.” He runs his tongue along the curve of Dom’s ear. “Wanna feel you come. Wanna hear your voice. Want you to come in my hand, Dommie...”

The words trail off in a stutter as Billy works his hand hard and fast on Dom’s cock, breathing into Dom’s ear, hand slapping up and down until Dom’s body tightens and bucks, pushing him up into Billy’s fist. “I—ahohgod—ohfuck _Billy_ —” and Dom’s face twists, mouth open, eyes closed tight as he comes, warm creamy spurt onto Billy’s hand and his own thighs and belly.

“Fuck, yeah,” Billy breathes, and squeezes until Dom’s body comes shuddering to a rest. 

Dom lets his elbows slide out from under him and lies prone on the mattress. Billy grins at him, and is waiting to meet his eyes when Dom finally opens his. Before Dom can speak, Billy lifts his own fingers and licks them, tasting Dom. Dom’s eyes widen, and Billy enjoys that look more than he wants to admit. Dom’s come tastes interesting—musky and a little salty. Dommish. 

That done, Billy reaches across Dom to the bedside table, where he plucks tissue from the box and then sits up to carefully clean them both off. Dom shakes under his tender ministrations. “Be still, wanker,” Billy commands.

“It tickles.”

“Said the man who fucking licked me twenty seconds after I came.” Billy tosses the tissue onto the floor.

“I just couldn’t resist.” Dom grabs him and rolls on top of him. “I want to lick you all the time, Billy Boyd.”

“You do seem to have an unusual talent for it.”

Dom eyes him, propped up over his relaxed form. “So are you okay?”

“Well, other than being hungry and tired and jetlagged—”

“Arsehole.”

“Twat.” Billy runs his hands up Dom’s arms reassuringly. “I’m fine. I am, in fact, better than fine.”

“We didn’t do anything too kinky,” Dom says thoughtfully.

“Listen, Dommie, I just starred in the premiere of the all-male version of the ‘Billy Gets a Blowjob’ show. That was kinky enough for the moment.”

“So you want to take it slow—nothing too scary for a while?” Dom doesn’t sound disappointed, but Billy’s known him for a long time. And he can ease the let-down honestly.

“I think I need a little time before I think about doing anything truly perverse to you.” He flutters his lashes at Dom. “At least let me buy you breakfast before I bugger you up the arse.”

“Thank god chivalry isn’t dead.” But Dom’s grinning, grinning as though his face might split, and the kiss he gives Billy is deep and satisfied. “Well. If you want to go out and eat, you’d best shower.”

“Wanna help get me clean?”

“Mmmm. I think I’m better at getting you dirty... but okay.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic ~~at the disco~~ at the diner; recovery; maybe a little more panic, just for fun. (Fucking Elijah.)

Billy’s head is spinning. He meant it when he invited Dom into the shower with him, but he kind of wishes he hadn’t said it, just so he’d have a moment alone, a chance to get his balance back. Now they’re under the warm needles of water together, and Billy can’t decide whether he needs to think or to kiss Dom some more. Simple proximity determines the answer, and a nanosecond later Billy’s back’s against chilly tile, hot water blinding him and Dom’s lean, hard body pressed against his, slippery tongue and rough beard and tender lips. _Equilibrium_ , he thinks, _I need some equilibrium_ , and Billy feels himself teetering. But Dom is very, very good at distracting him—soapy hands, and holy _fuck_ where did he learn to do _that?_ Billy yelps and Dom laughs.

Dom releases him and turns to face the water, letting it run over his face and body. “I’m getting out,” he says. “I showered just before... well. Before. And if I stay in here I may never get breakfast out of your wallet.” He grins and steps out.

“Just leave me one dry towel, will you?”

“Maybe. Can I borrow some of your clothes?”

“Help yourself. But no ties with t-shirts. I need my ties.”

“Did you even bring a tie?”

“Two, thank you. For those meetings next week.”

“Oh, yeah. All right, no ties.” And Dom’s gone, closing the door behind him.

Billy stands beneath the shower and doesn’t think for a small, blissful period. Just the water, on his face and then neck and back as he turns slowly under the pounding water. God. Good. Water therapy.

 _How_ — Billy grabs the soap and cleans himself automatically as his brain kicks into gear. _How did it happen so easily?_ It’s not as though Billy spent any time (before last month) considering Dom as a potential bed-partner. Billy’s straight. And Dom is bi, and fairly open about it, but has always seemed to gravitate toward women, that Billy has seen. So why isn’t Billy more weirded out?

Well. Partly because of who he is. Billy’s never had much interest in limits, or labels. Limits don’t send you to drama school when you’re old enough to be getting married and having babies. Labels don’t let you outside the box of “Billy? Yeah, he’s a good bloke, works down the binder’s w’ me.”

And then his time around musicians and actors reinforced that natural tolerance. Ian McKellan once said he went in to acting to meet good-looking guys. Probably not true, but certainly there are enough drama queens in any given theatre to ensure that homophobia is a rare weed in that world. And Billy has always been fine with that. He doesn’t like hatred or bigotry any more than he likes limits or labels.

But it’s a long, scary trip from being okay with gay guys to being a gay guy.

And whoa, does this make Billy gay? Shit, he doesn’t know. It was the best blow job he’s ever had, and then getting Dom off—god, it felt natural, it felt _right_. Even to licking Dom’s taste from his fingers... Billy shivers a little in the hot, steamy air. That felt right, too. He doesn’t know. Maybe he’s bisexual. Maybe he’s Domsexual. This thought makes him grin, a little.

It was—it must’ve been—that phone call that triggered him. Because ever since that phone call he’s had some new undercurrent of awareness: Dom as a sexual creature. He’s had Dom’s voice in his ears when he touched himself, at first driving him mad, then something he was kind of getting used to, and recently just a part of his own personal particular sexual scenery. Even with that girl, that one night two weeks ago, after the show in Glasgow. She was a sweet girl, delicious and wild and eager for an uncomplicated lay, and even with her... Billy closes his eyes tightly and rubs soapy hands through his hair.

 _Even with her you had Dom’s voice in your head._ It’s the voice of conscience, and truth. “Fuck.”

If he hadn’t been thinking about Dom for a month, about Dom’s voice, about Dom’s dirty, tricky mouth, his wicked sense of humor, his breath over the phone, snickering and then gasping, saying Billy’s name...

Christ, Billy’s hard again. 

If he hadn’t been thinking about Dom for a month, and getting hard every time he thought about him—because he has, and denying it is pointless, like denying gravity, or magnetism, or heat, all of which concepts are inextricably tied up with Dom, too—then this morning—afternoon—whatthefuck _ever_ —wouldn’t have happened so easily. And Billy knows he wants it to happen again. The same things, other things. More. More Dom.

“De Nile is more than a river in Egypt,” Billy sings as he rinses his head and body, and then he’s laughing, helpless, as the soap stings his eyes and the water goes cold and terror and joy flood him in equal measure.

*

Dom takes him to a restaurant near the beach. It’s a dive, a Mexican diner, and Dom orders huevos rancheros and migas. “We’ll split ’em,” he says with assurance. “This place is great.”

Billy agrees, not listening or paying attention, off-balance again. His eyes move around: the shabby décor (all aqua vinyl and hot-pink papier-mache); Dom’s hands (he had something written there, but his two showers have faded the ink to a faint hieroglyphic across smooth skin); the view out the window (flat asphalt). Dom. Dom wearing Billy’s “I’ll procrastinate later” t-shirt, which gives Billy a weird little jounce when he sees it.

Billy’s jittery. They sit across from one another, and Billy jiggles his hand constantly, drumming a tattoo on the cracked plastic table top until Dom reaches across and grabs his fingers. “Sorry, mate.”

“Don’t worry about it. You okay?”

Billy pulls his hand from Dom’s, feels a little stab of guilt at Dom’s flicker of hurt. “Yeah, I am. Just. You know.” He forces himself to look at Dom. _This is your best friend, tell the fucking truth_. “Delayed reaction, I guess.” He tries to smile, fails, looks down again.

“Okay.” Dom nods. He puts his hand over Billy’s for one more moment, then takes it away.

They sit in silence until the food comes (Dom lets Billy tap the table without comment), and it’s delicious. Billy can’t quite handle the thermonuclear salsa Dom likes, and when Dom offers him a jalapeño as though it’s a treat, he stares him down. “Fuck off, Monaghan, I’ve seen those before.” Dom just laughs. But the spiciness of the chopped peppers in the eggs isn’t too bad, and the cheese and tomatoes and onions and tortillas are fantastic. “This would make good hangover food,” he says around a mouthful of refried beans and fried potatoes. He feels a bit more grounded with the food in his stomach.

“It does.” Dom grins, wiping up the last traces of his salsa with a bit of tortilla. He finishes off his soda and waits for Billy, reclining comfortably in the booth.

“I’m done.” Billy leaves a bit of food, but he’s stuffed. 

“So what do you want to do today?” Dom asks.

Billy bites back his first response, which is to smirk _You_. He would have said it, before, and meant nothing by it, and now he doesn’t say it (even though maybe he would mean something by it), and this irritates him. So he shrugs. “I don’t know. Whatever. Buy some movies, check out some music stores?”

“Okay, if there’s time. We’re supposed to be at Sean’s at five.”

“That’s right. Shite, that’s only a couple of hours away.”

“Yeah.” Dom watches him, fox-slanted eyes half-lidded, a little smile playing over his mouth. “So. Billy.”

“What.” Billy feels guarded, suddenly. He doesn’t quite know what that smile means, and he feels his general irritation level spike up another notch. _I would have known what that smile means, yesterday._

“Oi, calm down, Bills.” Dom’s laughing at him. “Let’s catch a cab to my place so I can check my e-mail, change into some jeans that actually fit. Stuff like that. Then we’ll have my car, too, to go to Sean’s.”

“All right.” They stand up and Billy pulls out his wallet. “What kind of plastic do they take here?”

Dom grins. “They don’t.”

“Oh, Christ.” Billy opens his wallet, inspects the contents. “I used up almost all my cash at that club last night.” He looks up at Dom. “Is there a money machine around here?”

“Nope.” Dom has his own wallet out, pulls out a ten and a five. American currency still—always—looks like pretend money to Billy. Legacy of a thousand movies, watching green paper pass from hand to hand, flutter through the air. Unreal. Dom leaves the money on the table and they leave.

“Thanks.”

Dom turns faintly predatory eyes on Billy, his mouth curling up in a smile. “Don’t mention it. I guess it just means _I_ get to bugger _you_ later.”

“Wha—oh, shite.” Billy laughs, shoves Dom nonchalantly into a parked car. “Bugger off, more likely.” He feels his heart lighten.

“A deal’s a deal,” Dom sings, and in the back of the cab he makes obscene gestures below the cabbie’s line-of-sight, until Billy’s hard-pressed to maintain a straight face.

He's almost back to normal by the time they reach Dom’s little house. Dom pays the taxi driver— “You owe me even more now, Boyd,” and his leer is positively wicked—and leads Billy inside.

Billy’s been there before, but anxiety slams him again as soon as the door shuts behind him. Dom doesn’t seem to notice—tosses his keys onto the table by the door, strides through the house, talking aloud to Billy, who is leaning against the wall in the hall, eyes closed, trying to decide what the fuck he should do, figure out why he feels panicky.

“Gotta feed the critters,” Dom says from another room, “Baby is due for a snack, and—oh, jeez, sorry about that little fella—Fluffy’s water is low.” Baby is a three-foot boa; Fluffy is a panther chameleon with his own well-maintained terrarium in Dom’s bedroom. Billy has his head back against the cool plaster; he can hear Dom opening the freezer to extract one of Baby’s repellent little frozen meals (“Holy fucking _Christ!_ ” Billy remembers Orlando’s reaction when he went looking for ice cream and found stiff little rodents instead, and Billy almost smiles) and then the freezer door closing, Dom opening the top of Baby’s tank and dropping in the mouse. “Billy?”

Billy’s eyes are closed. He hears Dom’s footsteps coming toward him, but doesn’t move.

“What’s the matter, Bills?” Dom’s voice is compassionate, intensely _there_ , and Billy feels it relaxing him almost against his will.

“Little panic attack, I think, Dommie.” He concentrates on breathing, on steadying his nerves.

“Okay.” Dom doesn’t touch him, but he doesn’t leave, either. When Billy opens his eyes, Dom’s looking at him calmly, nothing in his face but patience.

“Shit.” Billy smiles, shakily. “I thought you’d be the high-maintenance one.”

“Come on, come sit down.” Billy lets himself be led into the living room (which is placed, oddly to Billy’s mind, at the back of the house, with a sliding-glass door looking out onto a neglected patch of brown yard). Dom puts Billy on the couch and sits beside him, folding Billy’s hand within his own. He rubs it gently. “Tell me about it.”

“Christ.” Billy closes his eyes, opens them. “I don’t know, Dom. I feel—fuck. I feel confused.” He hates this, _hates_ it. Why can’t Dom just read his mind, like he always does? Billy pulls his hand back, rubs his face. “I don’t know. I just... god. I think I’m... scared.” He looks Dom in the eye finally. “I’m scared.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Dom looks at him. “What are you scared of?”

“Honestly?”

“Make a list.” One side of his mouth quirks up.

Billy snorts, half a laugh. “Okay. One. I am scared that I’m gay. That’s stupid, but it’s true. I’ve always been—I’ve always— _shit_. I like _women_ , you know? Not to say I haven’t thought some guys were hot, but I never wanted to fuck any of them. And now I do.” He reddens, the flush painfully obvious on his winter-pale face, then grins, because Dom is smiling, the most amazed little smile of total happiness. “Aw, shite, Dommie.” 

“Sorry. Go on.” But Dom’s still smiling, like he can’t quite help himself, and that smile goes a long way toward easing Billy’s anxiety. Or at least making it less important.

“Don’t be sorry for that smile, you git. That’s why I want to shag you.” 

“Christ, you’re about to get what you want... No, no, wait. Finish the list. Then we shag.”

“All right. Two. I’m afraid... I’m a bit nervous about how it all works. The, ah, shagging. I’ve, y’know, gone in the back door before,” he hastily adds. “But never had anyone, ah. You know.”

Dom looks like he wants to giggle, but knows he can’t. So he takes a couple of deep breaths. “I can understand that. But Billy, keep a couple of things in mind. First off, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Really. Second, if you do decide you want to, erm, let me have a shot at you,” and the look of abstract desire on his face is so powerful that Billy almost wants to let him have his shot right then and there, “we would go really slow. It takes some getting used to. It’s good—it’s _really_ good—but you have to trust. And go slow. And use lots of lube.” He grins.

“I know, Dommie, I know. But it’s scary. That’s all.”

“Yeah.” Dom rubs Billy’s knee. “Thanks for trusting me to talk to.”

Billy clears his throat, tries to smile. “I’ve already trusted you where no man has gone before. Don’t know why this is hard.”

“Go on, then, Billy, get it over with.”

“Okay. Well then.” Billy hems a bit more. “The thing is. The thing is... I don’t know if I’m ready to come out in the open with this. With us.” He peers at Dom, willing him to understand. “I need to think about it. If it was just _us_ , you know, I’d do it. But we both have to think about our careers, and how they’d be affected, and... well, fuck. It’s a lot to think about.” Dom has leaned back now, slightly away from Billy. “You know?”

Dom looks distant, suddenly, like he’s watching Billy from far away. Billy feels dread turning his intestines to ice. Waiting.

“Yeah.” Dom’s closed-off expression eases a bit. “I could get all waxed up, and throw a huge fit, but hell—I’ve never even publicly admitted _I’m_ bi. So there’s no point in acting all holier-than-thou about you wanting to be a bit coy.”

“Are you willing to be patient with me... even with the others? The Fellowship?” Billy searches Dom’s face.

“Yeah. I guess. Anyway, they’re a nosy bunch of fuckers, they’d take the piss without mercy if they knew.”

Billy’s smile is real, this time. “That’s true enough.”

“Serve ’em right to be in the dark.”

“Can you imagine Sean’s reaction? ‘I knew it! I knew it!’“ Billy puts on Sean’s uber-righteous excitement perfectly, and Dom snorts. “Or Orli—even worse.”

“And neither of you wants _me_?” Dom drawls in perfect imitation. They both fall out, laughing.

“So Dom, you never did answer my first concern,” Billy says after a minute or two.

“Which one was that?”

“I’m scared that I’m gay.” Billy says it seriously, and the gleam in his eye might go unnoticed by anyone else, but they’re Billy ‘n’ Dom, and they’re in sync again.

Dom scoots close to Billy, then even closer, until they’re thigh-to-thigh on the soft leather couch. “Nah. I would never sleep with a gay man.”

“Is that right?”

Dom leans over to kiss Billy’s neck. Billy lets his head fall back, feels his body simultaneously relax and tense. “Absolutely not. I only sleep with heterosexual men. Manly men.”

“Mmm.”

“Do you feel better now?”

“I’m greatly reassured.” Billy sighs and tilts sideways into Dom, who wraps his arms around him tightly. “Now I can kiss you without worrying about my manhood.”

“Mmm. Let me worry about your manhood.”

Dom’s hands are firm on his waist, and then his nose is against Billy’s and they’re about to kiss again and nothing matters, nothing except Dom’s warm breath, and his eyes, blue now and so close, so close...

Lips. And Billy loves these lips, loves their taste and how soft they are, how clever. He bites at Dom’s lips gently, then his tongue flicks out, drawing a quick, moist line along them. His eyes close as his tongue presses further, slipping into Dom’s mouth. Hotwetsweet, and Billy has his hands in Dom’s soft hair now, holding him still as their mouths move against each other.

“God...” Billy opens his eyes after a long time. Dom’s face is blissful, unguarded. His eyes are closed and he’s smiling like an unlikely Buddha.

“You can just call me Dom,” he says, and then they’re both laughing, hysterically, Dom curled up against Billy, rangy body shaking hard.

When the laughter eases, Billy’s on his back, stretched on the couch, and Dom’s lying atop him. Billy’s aroused again, and Dom is, too—Billy has proof, pressed against his hip. “I want to do such bad things to your body, Billy,” Dom whispers into Billy’s ear, and then he bites his earlobe, not all that gently.

Billy shivers. “I think you can talk me into it.” He runs one hand over Dom’s shoulders, then down, down to the lovely curve at the small of his back. Amazing how similar it feels to a woman’s back, and yet completely alien at the same time. Billy wants to tell Dom something, before he’s completely unable to think (which will be any moment now, because Dom has shifted a bit, pushing his pelvis against Billy’s erection and his mouth against Billy’s neck). “Dom. Dommie.”

“Hmmm?”

“Listen, okay?”

“I’m listening.” His teeth close on Billy’s shoulder, just where it meets his neck, and a shudder runs through Billy’s whole body. 

“ _Jesus_... Okay. I just want to say that I may be, um, weird for a while.”

“Weirder than usual?” Billy can feel Dom’s smile against his neck.

“Yeah. I may—I may freak out occasionally. Like I just did in the hall.”

Dom kisses the hollow between Billy’s collarbones. “Okay.”

“Seriously.”

Dom lifts his head. “I _am_ serious. It’s okay. Just don’t—you know. Don’t think I have all the answers, or any of the answers. We’re off the map, now, Bills.”

“Shite, Dommie, you seem like you do have the answers. You’re so calm.”

“I’m not calm at all.” Dom’s lips curve up, just a little. “But—” he’s serious again— “I’ve known for a long time that I like men. Along with women. What you’re dealing with... well. I went through it when I was about 14. So if I seem calm, that’s prob’ly why.”

Billy pulls Dom’s head down to lie on his chest. “Don’t tell me I have to go through puberty again, for Chrissakes.”

“No, nothing like that.” Billy can feel Dom’s chuckle against his belly, as well as hear it. “I like that you’re all grown up.”

“I don’t feel very grown-up sometimes.”

“You don’t act it, either.”

“Fuck you.”

“Please do.” And Dom grins, and pulls Billy’s shirt up, sliding his hand onto his stomach.

Billy bucks under Dom, wrestles him around until he’s pinned beneath Billy on the couch. “Don’t tempt me.” He leans down to kiss him, hard and deep, until his whole body is humming. “I’m feeling powerful urges to do things to you that my minister would certainly not approve.”

“At least let’s get undressed, all right?” Dom’s voice is all dry practicality.

“Hell, how many clothes do we need to take off to do this?” Billy is licking the smooth skin of Dom’s neck, now, drunk on the scent of it, the clean-salt taste of it.

“You haven’t bought me breakfast yet.” Dom’s voice goes a bit squeaky on the last word as Billy grinds his hips down.

“Can I owe you?”

“Yes. Wait. No.” Dom gasps, and he pushes Billy over and sideways so they roll onto the floor with a crash, Dom on top again, Billy breathless from the fall and Dom’s weight. “No. We have to leave for Sean’s in just a little while, and I want to do _that_ —” the intensity of his voice leaves no doubt in Billy’s mind as to what he’s talking about— “just right. I want us to be able to take our time.”

“Call him up and tell him we can’t come. Fuck Sean.” Billy gets these words out in spite of the fact that he’s nearly paralyzed from his landing. And desire.

“Ah-ah-ahhh.” Dom stills Billy’s roving hands, pinning him to the floor by his wrists. “You don’t _get_ to fuck Sean. You get to fuck _me_.” He presses his hips into Billy’s, hard. “And not till I say so.”

Billy groans. “Dom, you bastard, I want to come, and I want to come soon, and I want to come in you—” Dom’s eyes have glazed, he’s breathing rather quickly— “so please, just do _something. Soon_.”

“Yes, please do. I’m getting quite impatient myself.”

Both of them freeze. 

Billy squeezes his eyes closed, feeling his entire face scrunch up in complete, abject embarrassment. Horror. _Oh my fucking god._ “No. No, no no no no.”

Dom looks up into Elijah’s amused face. “Heya, Elwood.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humiliation, celebration, and finally - FINALLY - some privacy.

“Heya, Dom.” Elijah is leaning against the wall, wearing a smirk that has to be seen to be believed.

Dom feels an almost overwhelming urge to pound his pretty little Frodo face into mince, but instead he rolls off Billy and sits on the floor, his back against the couch, knees drawn up. “What brings you to my lovely abode?” Dom’s tone is mild; his fists are clenched.

“I stopped by to pick up my travel DVD player—I have a long flight on Wednesday, and I want it for the plane, and you didn’t answer your cell when I called to ask you to bring it tonight.” Despite his snarky smile and casual posture, Elijah’s a bit flushed.

Billy’s rolled into a fetal ball on the floor, arms folded over his head. “Okay, there, Bills?” Dom puts one hand on his thigh.

“Don’t mind me,” comes the muffled reply. “I’m just going to lie here and die.”

“Okay.” Dom pats his leg. He looks up at Elijah, a look that would kill if Dom could back it up with a weapon. “Elijah.”

Elijah ignores the look and perches on the arm of the (much-abused) couch. “So when did all… this… happen?” He makes a vague hand-waving gesture.

“Last night. And we’d like to keep it private.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Elijah swings his leg cheerfully. “You know everybody’ll be thrilled. I know _I_ am.” The smirk is back. “And think of how happy you’ll make the fans.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Seriously.” Elijah can’t contain his glee. “It’ll be awesome. And I can stop watching you stare at Billy like a starving man outside Krispy Kreme—”

“Elwood, I’m warning you.” Dom climbs to his feet.

“Please.”

Both of them shut up, then, and look at Billy, who’s uncurled and is lying on his back, looking upside-down at Elijah.

“Oh, well. All right.” Elijah smiles tenderly at him. “Since you said please.”

Dom’s legs turn to jelly with reaction, and he sinks down on the couch. “You’re such a fucking arsehole. Should never’ve given you a key.” He buries his face in his hands. Billy gets up and comes to sit by him. Dom feels Billy’s hand on his leg and has a sudden urge to tackle him. That Billy would touch him right this minute... Jesus. He lowers his hands to smile at Billy, who, despite a face that would out-do a cherry for color, smiles back.

“Thanks, Doodle.” Billy looks up at Elijah, who musses Dom’s hair and then reaches across him to touch Billy’s shoulder. 

“I really am happy for you.”

“Yeah, well. Thanks. And keep it to yourself.”

“I promise. Even if someone asks me. Even if they ply me with alcohol. Even if I’m drunk, and reading Internet porn about the two of you, I promise.” Billy snorts and Dom pushes Elijah off the arm of the couch.

*

“I think my favorite part was ‘Fuck Sean.’” Elijah says this musingly, from the backseat of the car. They decided to ride together, and Elijah let Dom drive his car, a hybrid fuel-electric toy. Dom wants one.

Billy turns and stares him down. They’re almost to Sean’s beach house, and Dom surveys them both for a moment. “Listen, Lij, you say a word, and I’ll tell everyone about your secret stash of boy-porn.” His voice is pleasant.

Elijah sputters. “I don’t have a stash of—” 

“Uh-huh. And you think anyone will believe that?” Billy laughs and Dom glances into the rear-view mirror to see Elijah’s chagrined expression.

Inside the house, chaos reigns. Allie and Lizzie bounce from the walls, fueled by chocolate, apparently shared with—possibly brought by—Orlando, who is chasing them both around and around the couch, all three shrieking in high-pitched voices. Sean and Viggo are talking intensely about something or other; Chris is crouching in front of the stereo, fiddling with something.

“Let the party begin,” Dom says dramatically as they enter. Billy’s swamped. Both girls try to climb him as Sean pounds his back and Chris kisses his cheek. Orlando pries Allie off him and takes her place, enveloping Billy in a hug that’s all arms. Viggo shambles over and stands just at the periphery until he gets a clear shot, when (of course) he head-butts Billy. 

“Fu— _Ouch!_ Git!” Billy rubs his head and keeps the curses mild, grinning at Viggo and then down at Allie, who knows perfectly well what he almost said. She smiles angelically up at him. Dom watches all this from the sidelines, beaming. 

He wishes... wishes things were already different. Wishes everyone knew, and he and Billy could come in with their arms around one another, and just be relaxed. _On the other hand_... He watches Billy, animated, jouncing Lizzie lightly on his hip as he tells Sean about turbulence over Greenland. On the other hand, it’s all new, and he isn’t relaxed (any more than Billy), and having all their friends know—well, it would complicate things. No. Dom has to agree with Billy’s desire for privacy, although for different reasons. Let Dom and Billy succeed or fail on their own. 

Besides, there’s something eminently satisfying in watching Billy be Billy, and knowing that he’s _been_ with him, slept with him, sucked him off, that _Billy’s_ hands have been on _him_... Dom decides to derail that train of thought before he loses the ability to walk, so he waves to Chris and goes into the kitchen for a beer.

Elijah follows him. Dom hands him a Corona and gets himself a Killian’s Red. “How late do you think this’ll go?”

Elijah fixes him with a wicked look. “Eager to get home?”

“Twat.”

“Wanker.”

“Yank.” Dom takes a drink. “I just don’t want to offend Sean.”

“Fuck Sean.” Elijah’s eyes gleam, and Dom can’t help but crack a little smile at his smug face.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dom pretends he’s going to slug Elijah. “Seriously.”

Elijah takes a swallow of beer, then pulls the back of his hand across his mouth. “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure we can get you guys out of here pretty early.”

“Why do you want to leave early?” Orlando bounces in.

“Wha—oh. Oh, they don’t.” Elijah is smooth. “But we were all out late last night, and Dom thinks Billy’s still jet-lagged.”

“Wish I’d been with you.”

“Us, too,” Dom says. “Poor pitiful you and your thousand-dollar night-shoot.” He doesn’t mean it to come out bitter, really he doesn’t, but it must have, at least a little, because he sees the hurt slide over Orlando’s face, replaced almost immediately by sympathy. _Fuck_.

“It’ll happen for you, mate,” Orli says reassuringly, and Dom hates the pity even more than the fact that Orlando is beautiful and young and talented and doing well. 

But Dom chokes back his irritation, because he knows it’s his own damn fault. “I’m sorry, Orli,” he says, and he means it. “I didn’t mean to sound like such an arsehole. And things’re looking up for me. I read for a telly series...” It gets better, Orli and Lijah are listening, they’re all talking, laughing, joking. And if Orlando’s hand on his arm is overkill, Dom can live with it, he can fucking well deal with it.

Chris comes in halfway through the conversation to check on the food— “Oh my god, spinach lasagna,” Elijah moans happily—and the four of them stay there, leaning on the counters, talking, until the food’s done and Chris dragoons them into helping her serve.

When Dom walks back into the living room, Billy’s sitting on the couch with Sean and Viggo. They’re talking about _King Kong_ ; apparently Pete was in Los Angeles for two days and Viggo ran into him. Lizzie is on Sean’s lap; Allie’s drawing, paper and crayons spread on the coffee table.

Dom feels a rush of heat, drawn out of him by Billy. That’s nothing new, but coupled with his memories of the day—it happened _today_ , just a few _hours_ ago, Jesus Christ—it’s enough that the plates in his hand tremble. He sets one plate in front of Billy and gives him a smile—hopefully not too brilliant; he feels like everyone in the room must be able to see his feelings—he must be transparent, desire burning as hotly as the sun through clear glass.

Dom stays uncharacteristically quiet that evening.

Being the life of the party isn’t high in his priorities. No. He tries not to look at Bill too much or too little, tries to remember to eat, to drink. Tries to pay attention when people speak to him, instead of staring into space with a smile on his face.

When Billy goes upstairs to use the restroom, Dom has to pull Lizzie (sleepy now, a warm bundle of sweet-smelling little girl) close to his side to keep himself from following Billy.

An hour later, both girls have been taken up to bed by Sean. Dom’s thinking about leaving—thinking about what he wants to do with Billy after they leave—but Elijah is deep in conversation with Chris, and Viggo and Billy are talking music, a topic Dom knows can take either or both of them all the way through to dawn. He sighs and stands, heads to the second-floor bathroom.

 _Bladder?_ Better, much. _Hands?_ Clean, thank you very much. _Hair?_ Flat but presentable—no gel today. _Eyes?_ Dom leans forward to stare into his own gaze. Blue. Grey. Impatient. Horny. Another sigh, and Dom turns to leave the bathroom.

“Hey stranger.” Billy’s voice, and then he’s pressed against Dom in the dark hall. The back of Dom’s head clatters against a picture frame and Billy’s all over him, hands running down Dom’s sides, hips pressed to Dom’s so tight it would take a crowbar to get them apart, and his _mouth_ —holy fucking Christ his tongue is halfway down Dom’s throat and he’s intent, completely silent, nothing gentle about this, no sir.

He stops abruptly, pushing his face against Dom’s neck, holding him hard, still pushing him against the wall.

Dom’s panting, gasping, as completely hard and thoroughly ravished as he’s ever been, he’s reasonably certain. He feels Billy’s chest moving against his, shaking. _Is he—?_ Yes, Billy’s laughing. Dom remembers his hands, brings them up to run over Billy’s back. “Did I say something funny?” he murmurs. “Because I’m not sure how I could’ve been funny, seeing as my mouth was full...”

“Full o’ me,” Billy retorts quietly; Dom can still feel his ribs heaving. “I just—shite. Some straight man I am.”

“Mmm. What d’you mean?” Dom turns his head, seeks Billy’s face. He nuzzles him with his nose until Billy looks up, eyes gleaming in the dark, curving lips almost against Dom’s again.

“I mean I want you worse than I have ever wanted any woman and I think we need to leave soon.” His voice is intense, lower than usual, and Dom feels himself harden further, which he wouldn’t have believed possible until he heard that voice, hoarse with desire.

“I concur.” Dom can barely get the words out.

A door opens down the hall and Dom shoves just as Billy springs backward as though Dom shot electricity through him. Dom bends over, hands on his knees, trying desperately to control his laughter.

“Jeez, guys, keep it down, I just got Allie to sleep.” It’s Sean, and he doesn’t appear to see anything at all unusual in Billy and Dom opposite one another in a dim hallway, pointing at one another and giggling like fiends. He rolls his eyes at them and walks away.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Dom pants, stomach muscles aching. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He straightens.

“Yes, please.” Billy says it cheerfully, but he bounds across the hall and grabs Dom and kisses him one more time before he turns away.

Dom watches him go, breathless with laughter and lust and murmuring “Well fuck _me_.” In quite the most figurative and literal senses of the phrase.

When he gets downstairs, Billy’s leaning over to kiss Christine goodbye, and Viggo and Orli are standing around. Everyone’s making vaguely “Are you sure you have to leave?” noises, and Elijah’s standing near the door, jingling his keys.

“You ready, Dommie?” Billy calls to him chummily, not looking at all like a man who squeezed his best mate’s cock through his jeans not two minutes ago.

Dom clears his throat, summons up a more normal expression— _you’re an actor for Chrissakes, try not to look like you’re about to hump the sofa_ —and replies: “Yeah, we can go.”

“Excellent lasagna, I need that recipe,” “Come over to the house and you can try out my new Gibson,” “You planning to do any surfing?” “Call me before that meeting, I know Ramos, I’ll tell you how to wrap him round your pinky,” “Let’s do a pub crawl before you leave,” and they’re out the door, into another chilly L.A. night, only the sky isn’t on fire here because Sean and Chris live out of town, really, and Dom’s glad for that, glad for a sky that’s actually dark.

“Can I drive?” 

“Fuck no, Dom, I’m driving and you’re sitting next to me. I don’t want the two of you next to each other in my car. God forbid in the back _seat_.” He gives an exaggerated shudder.

Billy sticks his tongue out at him. “Screw you, Doodle.” 

The doors unlock with a little chirp and Elijah throws his most charming smile at Billy. “Sorry, Bills, I think you’re only allowed to screw Dom.”

“I oughta do you in the backseat, just for that,” Billy whispers into Dom’s ear just before he gets into the car.

Dom raises one eyebrow. “Don’t even think about it!” Elijah snaps, and Dom grins and slides into the front seat.

The trip to Dom’s apartment is long, and Elijah cranks the stereo to window-rattling levels, which Dom would normally enjoy, but now it seems to feed his anxiety/impatience/irritability. But its Lij’s car... and if the CD player wasn’t blasting at his eardrums, what would they talk about, anyway? Right now Dom feels like he has a very small vocabulary, mostly meant for only one person; words like “fuck” “yes” “Billy” and “want” are easy to access, but anything else has been burned out of his brain, zapped to ashes by Billy’s green eyes and his hands and his mouth. On Dom’s. In the hall.

Dom veers away from this track (for the hundred and ninety-seventh time), fearing he will actually burst into flame if it goes on. Or if he looks into the side-view mirror and sees Billy’s profile, looking out the window behind him, swept by sodium light as they skim past streetlights, then dark again. Billy’s mouth, closed and serious-looking, face calm and closed and unreadable. Dom wants Billy to open to him, cry his name out, moan. Wants to reach him. Change that calm face.

 _Shit_. Think about something else, think about this music, what the fuck _is_ this? He’s about to ask Elijah when he realizes they’re on his street, and then Elijah pulls into Dom’s driveway. Elijah lets them out and then the little pissant is grinning at them both, turning the stereo down to say goodbye out his window. “Be good, boys. Remember to practice safe sex. And call me in the morning with all the details.” He cackles and roars out of the driveway (as much as one can roar in a cute, teeny little car), speeding away down the quiet, dark street.

Dom looks after him, then at Billy. “Well.”

“Bloody Yank.” But Billy’s turning to him, and Billy’s smiling, not his sweet cheerful smile, which Dom loves, but his wicked loan-shark smile, the one that makes him look predatory and scary and ohmyfuckinggod _hot_ , and Dom loves this smile even _more_ , especially when it’s aimed at him, which it never has been before.

“Well fuck _me_.” Dom says it out loud. 

And now Billy stalks toward him _god he moves so light on his feet, like a cat_ and Dom’s getting dizzy, so he grins at Billy’s diabolically happy face and sprints for the door, key in hand.

His hand is shaking (desire, glee, terror) and just as he gets the damn (fucking, piece-of-shite) key to turn, Billy slams into his back, flattening him so hard against the door that Dom’s probably bruised. Billy’s trying to climb up Dom’s back, his hands are roaming, tugging Dom’s shirt up, brushing down to his ass, sliding around in front of him to slip into his waistband; Billy’s mouth is hot and demanding on the nape of Dom’s neck and Dom wonders (in a vague, abstract way) whether they’ll make it inside at all.

“Get the door open, Dom.” This low command comes from Billy, and Dom has never complied with _anything_ that _anyone_ asked him so fast, _ever_.

Door open, bodies tumbling through, and Billy locks it behind them. “No more interruptions.” It’s dark in the house, but it’s Dom’s house, and he knows the way.

They fumble and kiss and grope their way through the hall, through the kitchen, another little hall and then they’re in Dom’s bedroom and oh my god oh my god ohmy _god_. Dom’s speaking the words, thinking them, chanting them. Billy pushes him back onto the bed, toppling onto him, mouth insistent and fierce on Dom’s shoulder, chin, mouth, jaw. Dom’s shuddering, gasping, hands clutching Billy to him, arching his back to grind their pelvises together. Billy groans “Oh Christ yeah, Dom” and bites down on Dom’s shoulder, hard.

“Clothes, clothes, need less clothes,” Dom begs when he can breathe again, a little. Billy apparently agrees, because he sits up and pulls his t-shirt off in one quick motion. Dom sits up to help him with the zip on his trousers. Billy’s kneeling when Dom yanks the denim down, and Billy went commando, he’s not wearing pants (which fact Dom knew; it's been torturing him for some little time). So it’s very, very easy for Dom to lean over and slide his whole mouth down on Billy’s cock, which has sprung free of its confinement quite eagerly.

Billy’s hands twist in Dom’s hair and words come in a rush: “Ohmygod, Dom your mouth your _mouth_ —” and then he’s silent again but for his panting breath, the wet sound as his hip move, pushing himself with short, stuttering thrusts into Dom’s mouth.

Dom loves it, wants it, wants to taste Billy’s climax again, swallow him, but more than that he wants Billy _in him_. So he pulls back, letting Billy’s hard cock slip from between his lips, wet and rigid.

“Don’t stop,” Billy almost wails, but Dom’s back in some sort of control.

“Oh no, Bills, this time I want more.” He shakes his head, dislodging Billy’s hands gently. He reaches over and flips on the little bedside lamp.

Billy looks... Holy fuck, Billy looks absolutely _edible_ , is how he looks—flushed, breathing hard, mussed hair, half-dressed. Cock out in front like the goddam figurehead on a ship. Dom licks his lips. “Take your trousers all the way off.” Billy’s looking at him like he wants to kill him—or fuck him. “Hop to it,” Dom says, and snaps his fingers, wicked glee threatening to drown him.

“You are pure evil,” Billy says. His green eyes are blazing, mouth slightly open and the half-seen glimmer of his small teeth mesmerizing. “I’m going to do such things to you...” But now Billy’s sitting back, kicking his shoes off, throwing his socks after them, peeling the jeans the rest of the way off, glaring the while.

Dom has to remind himself to stop staring, deal with his own clothes. The sight of Billy, naked, hard like that... well. Dom pulls his (Billy’s!) t-shirt off, hastily followed by boots and socks, and lies back.

“What about your trousers?” Billy’s accent is as thick as treacle, or whisky, or something ridiculously, deliciously Scottish. He sounds half aggressive, half plaintive.

“I leave them to you,” Dom says generously. “Oh, yeah.” He leans over and searches in the drawer of the night table. “For when you get ’em off.” The little tube of lubricant hits Billy square on the chest; he looks slowly down at it, then slowly at Dom.

The loan-shark smile is back.

“Oh, Dominic.” He leans over him. “You are in such trouble.” He unbuttons Dom’s jeans without taking his eyes from Dom’s; his hands are meticulous and careful and gentle as he tugs the trousers down. Dom lifts his hips to help, maintaining eye contact, keeping his own little smile, although this Billy, dangerously solicitous, makes him want to shout with terror and anticipation and joy.

A moment later they’re both naked. Billy looks up and down Dom’s body, and Dom feels heat follow that gaze, stripping him down, burning him up, reddening him like the summer sun.

“I’m gonna make you come so hard.” This promise, breathed in a lilting voice into Dom’s ear, makes him bite his lip to hold back a moan. Billy lowers himself onto Dom, lying full-length atop him, skin to skin to skin. “Dom.”

Billy’s eyes, an inch from his, and Dom wants him so badly, so badly. “Billy.”

Then Billy closes his eyes, and lowers his mouth to Dom’s, and this kiss is poison, it’s addiction, seeping through Dom’s veins. Billy’s mouth is soft and hard at once, attack and surrender, demand and plea. Dom’s hands reach up and around, folding Billy down tighter against himself, opening to Billy’s mouth, to the question being asked, and Dom’s answer is yes and yes and yes.

It doesn’t last long, that kiss, but it’s long enough, and when Billy moves again Dom’s ready for him, has been ready forever. Billy’s moving quicker again, now, getting urgent. “I’m gonna take you, Dom—want to. Want _you_.”

“Yes.” It’s the only word Dom has left.

Dom’s against the pillows and the headboard, Billy pushing his legs open. Watching Billy fumble for a moment with the lube, Dom twitches with impatience. Then Billy spills the clear, sticky stuff into his hand, slathering it onto himself (Dom watches his eyes close, watches him bite his lip a little), and then his hand is on Dom—oh. _Oh_. Chilly liquid and warm fingers... Billy jostles Dom gently, slightly sticky hand and warm, dry hand, pushing his legs up until Dom is folded almost in half, exposed; Billy’s fingers are busy between his legs, massaging, pressing, little wet circles around Dom’s puckered entrance.

One finger, and Dom sighs. Two, and Billy pushes them in deep, stroking slowly until he feels Dom’s body stiffen. Dom’s eyes close, and Billy strokes deep for a moment, until Dom arches and groans. Billy’s fingers slide out and Dom feels him shift on the bed. Feels Billy’s legs against his thighs, knees braced under him. Feels the head of his cock, nudging gently against him.

“Open your eyes, Dommie.” He does, and sees Billy’s eyes, Billy’s face, bent over him, focused, intent. “Is this okay?”

Dom nods. “Yes.”

“I want this... so bad.” Dom nods. Billy locks his eyes onto Dom’s as he presses slowly into him. Dom wants to close his eyes but he can’t, can’t let go of Billy’s green gaze, so he knows Billy sees everything on his face, in his eyes—the stretch-burn-tingle as Billy’s cock enters him; Dom’s controlled breath in and conscious relaxation as Billy pierces him thoroughly, completely, deeply; his desire, rising and rising. Dom forces himself to breathe slowly for Billy’s first few, slow strokes, but he can see everything in Billy’s eyes, too, he _can _, and he knows what Billy wants. Words come back to him, a few.__

__“Faster,” he says, his voice not his own._ _

__“Oh god.” Billy shifts slightly, leans forward a little. “Yes.”_ _

__“Yeah.” Dom slides his hands down Billy’s chest, around to his back, down to his thighs. Billy moves faster, a bit; Dom feels the big, hard muscles in Billy’s thighs trembling. “Faster, Bill. Please. Please.” Billy grunts a little, thrusts harder._ _

__That one touches the spot, that perfect place inside him, and Dom yelps. Billy immediately freezes. “Did I hurt you?”_ _

__Dom speaks out of desire and frustration and an insane need to spur Billy on, to give him what he wants: “Fuck _no_ , Billy, you hit the sweet spot. Quit fucking _babying_ me. Fuck me, _now_.”_ _

__Billy gapes at him, and Dom watches the shift, watches his eyes go dark. “Fuck you. Fuck, yeah.” He begins moving again, harder now, faster: long, sleek strokes that make Dom shudder and cry out before he can stop himself. It’s tight and hard and Dom is filled so full— “Fuck, yes, Dominic, wanna make you yell, wanna make you come, make you fucking think you’ve died.” Dom reaches down to touch himself, his cock is swollen and heavy and hard as a rock, desperate for friction. Billy grabs his hands and pins them up by his head. “No, Dominic. _I’m_ gonna make you come. _Me_. Do you understand?” His face is hard, commanding._ _

__Dom nods, mouth open, and Billy lets his wrists go and sets to work in earnest, bent over Dom’s body, thrusting hard, so hard—each thrust wrenches a sound from Dom, and Billy is whispering “yes, yes, yes, Dom, yes,” and hearing his own name like that, from Billy’s lips, is making Dom certain that he’ll come even if Billy ever touches his cock, because it’s throbbing like it’s been jerked for an hour. Billy’s pelvis keeps slapping against Dom’s balls, perfect counter-pressure to his cock, and Dom doesn’t think he’ll last much longer—Billy’s face, right over his, concentrating so hard..._ _

__Billy’s voice changes slightly, gets more desperate— “yes yes yes, oh Christ yes, getting close, god Dom, getting close—”_ _

__“Billy yes, _please_ , please fucking _touch me_ , fuck me, pleasenowplease—”_ _

__Billy shifts again, grips Dom’s aching cock solidly in his right hand, slapping his hand up and down, hard. “Fuck _yeah_ Dommie, yeah, come for me, come on.” His voice is strained, mumbling, sweet obscenities falling from his lips as his body slams into Dom’s again and again._ _

__Dom’s either screaming or not making any sound at all, he doesn’t know, just knows that he’s going to come in about one-point-three seconds, and then he is, body thrashing, coming hard, legs straining against Billy’s chest and shoulders, Billy’s cock buried inside him, Billy’s hand stroking him so he comes more, and more, and more, and then he feels Billy shudder and come deep in him, all gasping breath and yelling, _oh yes_ , yelling his name: “DomohgodDomohDom, oh yes, yeah...” _ _

__Maybe Dom blacks out, or maybe he just goes blank, drifting in that starburst electric place Billy took him to, but when he figures out that he’s still alive, still breathing (still breathing quite fast, in fact), Billy’s slumped over him, panting into his neck, completely spent, collapsed and sweaty and sticky._ _

__“Oh my _god_ ,” Dom groans into Billy’s hair._ _

__“Are y’okay?”_ _

__Dom huffs a breathless laugh, sucks in more oxygen with a long in-drawn breath. “ _No_. I’m so far beyond okay that I can’t even see it in the rearview mirror.” _ _

__“Mmm. Okay then. In tha’ case I’m just going to lie here for a wee moment until my lungs start functioning again.”_ _

__Dom’s grinning. He isn’t sure he’ll ever stop. “Long speech for someone with no lungs.”_ _

__“Ngh.” Billy pushes himself onto his elbows and then very slowly withdraws (both of them hiss a little at the sensation); when that’s done, he rolls onto his back beside Dom._ _

__“See, that’s more like what I would expect from someone with no lungs.” Dom props himself on one elbow, grinning at Billy._ _

__“I’d respond to that but my current state of oxygen deprivation means I can’t think of witty comebacks.” Billy _still_ looks edible. Possibly more edible than before—he’s gleaming with sweat, pink from head to toe; his hair is tousled and damp, his eyes are half-closed. A little smile is curving his lips, and Dom doesn’t even try to resist the urge to kiss him._ _

__“Mmmm.” Billy’s mouth is soft and pliant, sweet. When Dom pulls away, Billy draws him down to lie on his chest._ _

__They lie that way for a long time. Dom’s still grinning. Billy’s still smiling._ _

__Eventually Dom realizes that he’s about to fall asleep, on top of the covers, rather sticky, fairly messy. “Bills.”_ _

__“Hmm?” Billy’s voice rumbles under his ear._ _

__“Let’s go to sleep.”_ _

__“Okay.” Billy doesn’t move._ _

__“I have to clean up.”_ _

__“Okay.” Still no movement._ _

__Dom sits up. “I’m going to go wash up, okay?”_ _

__“Okay.” Billy’s still smiling, and he appears to be wide awake, clear eyes glinting at Dom._ _

__“Okay.” Dom climbs off the bed and stumbles to the bathroom, where he cleans up a bit. When he comes back, Billy’s under the covers, propped up against the headboard with the phone message pad and a pen lying loosely in his lap. He looks up at Dom._ _

__Dom slides under the covers to his chin, lies flat beside Billy, looking up at him. “What’re you doing?”_ _

__“Mmm. Just writing something down for myself. Viggo’s mobile number, actually; he gave it to me and made me say it after him so I’d remember it.”_ _

__“So why are you writing it down?” Dom runs one hand onto Billy’s stomach, feels the muscles twitch._ _

__Billy smacks his head gently with the pen. “Because if we do that again, I won’t have enough brain cells left to remember my name, much less Viggo’s mobile number.”_ _

__“We’re definitely doing that again.” Dom pokes his finger into Billy’s navel, snickering at the squeak this elicits. Then he pulls his hand out from under the covers and puts it on Billy’s stomach, this time atop the bedspread._ _

__“I’d have to agree.”_ _

__“Don’t worry. I’ll remind you of your name.”_ _

__“You do say it in the loveliest way, Dommie.” Billy’s voice is frankly purring, and Dom grins and wriggles tighter against him._ _

__“Lie down, Bills,” he suggests._ _

__Billy runs his fingers through Dom’s hair. “I’m pretty wide awake. D’you mind if I just sit like this for a while?”_ _

__“Mmmm. No.”_ _

__Billy turns off the lamp. He stops combing Dom’s hair and begins to rub his hand instead, callused fingers massaging his palm, rubbing along his knuckles, stroking his fingers. “Just go to sleep. I’m comfy.”_ _

__“Mmm.” Dom keeps his eyes open for a while, but Billy’s gentling fingers are sending him further and further toward pleasurable oblivion, and finally he sighs and relaxes completely into sleep, tucked tightly against Billy’s side._ _

____

*

He wakes up slightly when light stains the room silver. Billy’s curled up beside him, his back to Dom. Dom lies there without moving for a long time, blinking sleepily, letting himself drift. His line of sight includes the curving hump of Billy’s back, and the top of his head, soft blonde hair sticking out in wild disarray. Dom can see his own pillowcase, stretching away from his cheek, and his hand, palm up, fingers curved slightly in.

Dom stirs a bit, burrowing further under the covers. As he moves his hand he sees something, a line that wasn’t there when he went to sleep. Brow creasing, he turns his hand over and looks at the back of it.

ALL NEW

Billy’s handwriting, big block letters, black ink from the felt-tip pen Dom always keeps nearby. The word is carefully formed, soft black lines across the back of his hand. Dom looks at this for a while, until his eyes drift closed again and his breathing steadies, chest rising and falling in rhythm with Billy’s, beside him. 

Grey light fills the room. Both of them sleep.


	6. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wakey wakey.

Billy wakes up to find himself right in the middle of (getting) a blow job.

This isn’t the first time in his life such a thing has happened to him. But it hasn’t happened more than twice before. _And that is really, really a shame_ , he thinks, somewhere in between _oh_ and _mmmm_ and _unh_.

He’s lying on his side, and when his eyes drift open—which takes a while, because there doesn’t seem to be any hurry—he sees the distant, sun-washed wall, and a dented, unoccupied pillow. And a damp washcloth making a wet spot on the corner of the mattress; Dom must have cleaned him up a bit. _Very considerate_ , Billy thinks, his eyes closing again, hands seeking Dom’s head, there under the big fluffy duvet. He finds Dom’s hair, soft straight silky, and twines his fingers into it gently. Billy shifts a bit, pushes his hips forward slightly; he can’t see anything, of course, because Dom is as thoroughly submerged as a deep-sea diver, but he feels it, oh yes, feels his cock slide more deeply into Dom’s mouth. Dom’s clever, wicked, slowly moving, hotwetsweet mouth.

He thinks of Dom’s hands and a warm washcloth moving over him as he slept, and maybe that’s what started it: his body would respond—anyone’s body would respond—to such ministrations, and maybe Dom got him half-aroused and then pulled the washcloth out from under the covers and went down there himself, burrowing down slowly until he could take Billy’s hardening cock into his mouth, his nose pressed into Billy’s wiry, curly pubic hair, down there in the warm black, a little summer-night microenvironment, trapped air and humid darkness ( _like Dom’s terrariums_ ), and maybe his hands rubbed firmly and slowly around the base of Billy’s cock, then massaged his scrotum, rubbing the loose soft skin deeply, cradling Billy’s balls, rolling them in his fingers; and all the while his mouth—tongue, lips, gentle slidescrape of teeth barely felt—was moving up and down on Billy’s cock... maybe that’s how it started.

Billy’s still half-dreaming, but his body has begun moving, a languid rhythm against Dom’s mouth, his hands. Dom’s beard is soft, getting longer since he hasn’t shaved in several days, a delicate, tantalizing scritch against Billy’s inner thigh. Dom pauses what he’s doing (slides his mouth off and up, but his hand up and over, so Billy doesn’t quite need to whimper protest) to say something.

“What’s that, Dommie?” Billy’s throat is full of sleep and lazy pleasure, and he stumbles over the words.

“Are you awake now?” Dom’s voice, muffled by blankets and Billy’s body, is oiled and slick and smiling.

“Mmm. Getting there.” He moves again, pushing his aching cock into Dom’s grip.

Dom laughs, a low subterranean gurgle, and then his hand slides up, down; down, and his mouth follows, slips over Billy’s tight, swollen head, tongue lapping at the little ridge around it, so Billy shivers a little; then down, down, further, until Billy is completely trapped, sheathed from head to base in Dom’s mouth. Dom makes a little _mmm_ ing sound, and it vibrates through Billy. “Dom,” he sighs, and Dom sets to work again, in earnest now, but still tender, still slow.

It’s a small, pleasurable eternity until Billy comes. He moans, a long, low noise that seems to travel through him from the soles of his feet (toes curled then flexed) to his calves and thighs (tight then relaxed then tight) to his belly (warm _ahhh_ warm) to his chest (deep breath, ribs expanding, back arching ever so slightly) and then out his mouth...

“Unnnnnnhhhh...”

Dom’s mouth is so warm, and he swallows Billy whole, swallows the moan and the shudder and the salty, musky taste of him.

Billy’s fingers are still tangled in Dom’s hair. When he comes back from the place where he was floating, he combs through it delicately, traces Dom’s face without sight or speech, wanting to thank him. Dom’s motionless, his head heavy on Billy’s leg, one hand relaxed between the Billy’s thighs, the other who-knows-where. His breath wafts across Billy’s leg, stirs the ticklish hairs there. After a while he wriggles and squirms his way up Billy’s body until his head pops out from under the duvet. He’s grinning. “ _Good_ morning.”


	7. Faltering

Billy wonders if kissing Dom would seem this natural if he weren’t half-asleep. If he weren’t mindless with the aftermath of pleasure, if he were fully in control of his faculties. It doesn’t seem to matter, and Billy lets it not-matter for a while longer. Lets his fingers slide over Dom’s jaw and down his neck, trail along the angular curve of one shoulder and down to his biceps. Squeezes gently, though he feels as though his fingers are weak and frail, still sleepy. Full of air.

Dom’s mouth on his, Dom’s breath, warm whoosh against his nose and a pleased _mmm_ as their tongues slip against one another. Billy wonders briefly just how bad his mouth tastes, but Dom’s is nicely fresh, minty toothpaste under the odd musty tang of—oh Christ—what must be Billy’s own come. Without volition his arms tighten around Dom and Billy presses his body close, warm and a little sweaty skin to skin under the fluffy duvet. He sinks back and feels Dom’s body shift atop his own, heavy and comfortable and easy, corners and curves and the insistent, rubbery push of his erection into Billy’s thigh.

Dom breaks the kiss, pulling away to press his face into Billy’s neck. Billy lies still, boneless and relaxed, running his hands up and down Dom’s smooth back. Feels thought returning, and fear, and doubt. But—why? Billy pushes it aside, tries to. Closes his eyes and breathes in, deep, through his nose: Dominic-scent. He could get used to it, so he could. Thinks he might need it, now that he’s had it.

Dom’s moving against Billy, slowly. “Mmmmm,” he murmurs, and Billy feels a smile creasing his face. 

“We should take care of that,” he suggests quietly, and Dom makes an agreeable sound into his neck. His mouth opens against the sensitive skin there and Billy shivers a little. Play in contrasts: wet warm mouth and scratchy stubble, soft tongue and hard teeth.

Billy pushes, pulls, rolls until Dom’s underneath him. He braces himself on his forearms and looks down at him. Dom is so—god. _Open_. Always has been, and Billy’s scared half to death by the depth of happiness he sees in those eyes, bright blue, wide awake and joyful this morning. Fear knots Billy’s guts a little, but he doesn’t want Dom to see it and so he smiles at him and leans down for a kiss.

It’s so easy to kiss him, and Billy lets himself go again, lets his uncertainty and anxiety dissolve into the heat of it. Dom’s hands slide up his back and then down, cupping his arse, kneading the muscles there just a little, until Billy pushes forward with his hips, grinding gently against Dom’s erection. “I’m getting there,” Billy grins into Dom’s mouth, and Dom laughs a little breathlessly.

“Sorry—wandering hands,” he says.

Billy kisses his lips—they’re so soft—and smiles. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. He kisses Dom’s chin, the tender place under it. (Dom tilts his head obligingly back, sighing.) First his neck, then the little hollow between his collarbones. “Skinny lad,” Billy says. He makes his way down Dom’s body, commenting as he goes. “Smallest nipples I believe I’ve ever done this to,” he remarks as he licks and then blows across them. Dom shivers and laughs, his hands pushing again and again through Billy’s thin hair. “I never did know what to do with more than a handful anyway,” Billy adds, closing his lips around one erect, strawberry-coloured nub.

Dom sighs. “You’re doing fine with mine,” he murmurs.

“Less than a handful,” Billy replies, moving to the other for a moment and then kissing his way down one side, licking gently at Dom’s ribs. “Do you eat at all?” he asks, but it’s a rhetorical question, for he knows Dom eats, and knows he burns it away. 

Dom doesn’t answer. He pushes the covers down and lies with one arm behind his head, watching Billy, smiling. His other hand stays near Billy, rubbing his hair, tracing his cheek or ear. Billy lifts his head occasionally to kiss Dom’s fingers, then goes back to his leisurely exploration. “So are you as ticklish in bed as y’are out of it?” This as he rubs his nose suddenly into Dom’s navel.

“Bastard!” Dom cries, curling around Billy in a galvanic movement, both hands shoving Billy’s face from his midsection.

“A’right, a’right,” Billy laughs. “Calm down, I won’t do it again—I’d fear for my safety ‘f I did.”

Dom’s stomach stops shaking and he uncurls, giving the side of Billy’s head a glancing smack for his trouble. “Should’ve known you’d be an arsehole in bed, since you are out of it,” he grumbles. “Now would you please get to business?”

Billy grins up at him. “Your business, I presume you mean?”

“If you’d be so kind.”

“I’ve never done this before, Dom, so…” Billy hopes his eyes don’t betray his nerves too much. “Y’know. Be patient with an old man, alright?”

Dom smooths Billy’s hair from his forehead. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Bill. I said it and I meant it.”

“No, I—” Billy hesitates. “I want to do it.” He’s surprised to find it’s true, mostly. He’s not sure if he’s exactly turned on by the idea of it, but he isn’t turned off, and he does want to… well… repay Dom, he supposes, though he knows that this thought, if voiced, could lead to an ocean of explanation, recrimination, negotiation, etcetera… or possibly not. Possibly Dom would understand perfectly, as he usually does… But his and Dom’s usual telepathy has been a bit fuzzy lately, so Billy keeps the idea to himself. “I do want to do it,” he repeats, laying his head on Dom’s stomach. “Just be patient.”

“Billy. Whatever you’d like, yeah?” Billy can’t see Dom’s eyes, but his long fingers are reassurance enough, combing through Billy’s flyaway hair, and Billy sighs, half pleasure, half nerves.

“Aye. Now… let’s see about this, shall we?” He smiles against Dom’s hip and moves lower, propping himself up to look at Dom’s eager erection.

It’s weird, looking at a penis from this angle. Billy’s only used to seeing them (his own) from above; aside from the occasional glance in a locker room, costume change, or toilet, and of course obligatory porn film watching, Billy hasn’t really seen anyone’s bits but his own… well, ever. _This must be how women see them all the time_ , he thinks. _And some men. Me, now_. Billy chokes back a slightly panicked giggle and brings his hand up to wrap around it. Dom makes a pleased sound and pushes his hips up. “So ready,” Billy murmurs. He strokes up and down, watching the way the foreskin slides all the way back from the head. Dom’s cock is a deep rosy color, the skin smooth and almost… silky. His balls tighten then relax and Billy moves his hand down to cup them, rub the loose skin. Dom’s pubic hair there is sparse and wiry, thickening to a brown thatch around and above his cock. Billy takes a deep breath and leans forward. Holds Dom’s cock steady; runs his tongue gently along the underside of the shaft, from the musky base to the head, which is drum-taut.

“Mmmmm.” Dom’s thigh muscles stiffen for a moment, and Billy looks down to see his feet curl and relax. The Scot continues his licking, again and again, until Dom’s cock is moist and shining in the pale light of the bedroom. “Please, Bills,” Dom sighs. A drop of clear fluid wells up and lies poised there. Billy shifts himself higher, leans down and slides his mouth over the head of Dom’s cock. It’s large—somehow feels larger in Billy’s mouth than it looked before. Dom moans, a low sound that makes Billy’s shoulder blades tingle, and Billy seals his lips around the shaft, just below the head, and sucks gently, laving his tongue across the sensitive skin, lapping up the salty tang of Dom’s arousal. Billy keeps one hand wrapped snug around the base of Dom’s cock, trying to remember what he’s liked in the past. 

Okay, movement. He begins sliding his mouth up and down, tongue flat and soft. He feels Dom’s legs shift wider, moves himself for better purchase. Okay. Up and down, that’s good—judging by Dom’s fluttering breaths it’s good, and _mmm_ , there’s another bead of pre-come ( _mmm_?)—so let’s try a little more complicated… Billy continues the oral stroking, adds a tongue swirl around the head on each upward pull, tracing the delicate little ridge around the edge with his tongue. Dom’s fingers flex in his hair and his breathing speeds. “God, yeah,” he whispers.

Billy sucks fiercely for a moment and then lifts his head. “Is it okay?” 

“God, yeah,” Dom repeats. “Just the sight of it—” He laughs unsteadily. “I could come right now, if I let myself.” It must be true, Billy thinks, because as Dom says it his eyes slide shut and his cock twitches slightly in Billy’s grip. Billy feels a little rush of power, feels his own cock perk just slightly. 

He goes back to sucking, feels Dom’s sharp hipbones tremble with tension. He lifts his head again after a few moments. “You can move if you want, Dom.” Billy’s surprised by how husky his voice sounds in his own ears. Surprised by how exciting he (obviously) finds Dom’s excitement.

“Okay,” Dom says, eyes still closed, fingers quiet on Billy’s scalp. And when Billy leans down again (his jaw aches a little but he doesn’t think Dom will last much longer), Dom lifts his pelvis slightly, meeting him halfway so Billy gets more than he’d bargained for. Dom’s cock slides deep into his mouth and he chokes a little, but the suffocating feeling ends immediately as Dom withdraws. Billy’s ready for the next thrust, and takes it smoothly, remembering his tongue swirl, too. “Hmmm,” he hums, and moves his hand in conjunction with his mouth. Dom’s rhythm reacts and he speeds his pushes, always keeping the thrusts small so Billy can handle it. His breathing gets faster and harder and a moment later he moans, words coming out in a tumble: “OhchristBill’mgonnacome…” 

Billy slides his mouth off Dom’s slippery cock and works him hard with his hand. “Come for me, Dommie,” he croons, eyes scanning quickly from Dom’s quickly moving hips to his face—flushed, hot and beautiful—from the perfect curve of his thrown-back neck to his gasping mouth, then back down the smooth pale chest, belly, pelvis, to his cock, just in time to see him come, four or five gushes of thick white that spurt a little into the air and then slide down Billy’s hand, over his squeezing fingers and Dom’s throbbing cock. Dom moans again, a moan that seems to come from somewhere in his belly, deep and heartfelt and— “Jesus,” Billy says, strangely shaken. He slows his wrist and loosens his grip, sitting up slowly as Dom’s body relaxes. 

Billy sits tailor-fashion on the bed beside him, wondering what to do about his sticky hand. He’s half-hard again, his body buzzing with what can only be arousal, but he feels no desire to lick his hand clean as he did yesterday. He feels—it takes him a moment to recognize it—he feels afraid, deeply and profoundly scared.

“Okay there, Dom?” he forces himself to ask.

“Oh, yeah.” Dom puts on a casual tone, belied by his closed eyes and the blissful expression on his face. “‘M’fine. You?”

“I’m… uh. I’m fine. I’ll be right back, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, Billy clambers off the bed and heads purposefully for the toilet. 

He washes his hands for a long time, not because they feel particularly dirty, but because his mind has gone quiet and blank, and the water feels good, changing from icy to warm and then hot as he lets it run. 

Finally he twists the faucet off with a sigh and dries his hands. Peeks back into the bedroom and Dom is curled onto his side, the duvet pulled up to his chest again and his journal open. He’s reading, not writing in it, and when he sees Billy he smiles. “Alright?”

“Yeah. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Mkay.” Dom closes the cloth-bound book and stretches. “I’ll make some tea, yeah?”

“Thanks.” Billy withdraws again.

He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror for a long time. “What am I doing?” His voice sounds odd—strained, and he feels panic twisting in his belly. It wants to become something else. It wants to become anger, but there’s no one to be angry at but himself. And he doesn’t really think he’s earned his own anger. Yet. But he’s afraid he will, and he sighs, feeling the panic and the anger drain away, leaving only fear, and the dull, exhausting certainty that he needs to speak with Dom.

*

By the time Billy wanders into the kitchen, dressed in cotton boxers and a worn t-shirt of Dom’s, two omelets are on the table and Dom’s pouring orange juice into tumblers to sit beside steaming mugs of tea. “The one nice thing about LA markets is that I can always get the good shit—nothing GE’d, no pesticides. All natural organic guaranteed.” 

“Hmmm.” Billy blinks at the food. “Looks good.”

His belly’s happy enough to accept breakfast, but he can’t quite bring himself to speak yet. Knows that his silence is rude, and hopes Dom will chalk it up to jetlag, rather than the dread it actually masks.

Dom doesn’t speak much either—he hums along to the Beatles on the kitchen radio tunefully enough, mentions a record shop he thinks Billy will like, and seems to accept Billy’s quiet easily.

They finish and Billy gets them both fresh mugs of tea. “D’you know I once kissed a lad in school?”

Dom sits back in his chair, one heel hooked over the rung between two legs of it, the other stretched lazily along the tiled floor. “Yeah? I never knew that.” He’s waiting, willing to hear the story and whatever else Billy has to say, and Billy’s grateful.

“Yeah, I was about fourteen, I think. This friend of mine, and he kissed me.” Billy fiddles with his mug, turning it on the table.

“You kiss him back?” Dom’s fingers skitter nervously—run through his hair and then he picks at a seam on his shorts, pulling at a loose thread, pinching the fabric, back to the seam, back to the thread. Billy’s always been able to ignore Dom’s fidgets. There are countless hours of tape of him and Dom, Billy imagines: interviews and behind-the-scenes footage and premieres and conventions and award shows. And in almost all of them, Dom fidgets and Billy’s still, except that his hands often move without his notice—and he’s still turning that damn teacup, and he smiles to himself.

“Yeah, I did—for a second, y’know? Then I chickened out—took off and didn’t ever talk to him after that.” Billy’s fingers circle the rim of the cup once and then he lifts it to his lips.

Dom’s watching him alertly—Billy should know better than to think that Dom’s twitchiness precludes him seeing everything. “Bet that was weird.”

“Yeah, it was. And then,” Billy inhales deeply, “a few months later, like, word got round that he was gay and all, and it was a hard time for him, I expect.” Another sip of tea, and Billy forces himself to meet Dom’s eyes. “I felt bad for him, but I still didn’t talk to him.” He drops his gaze again. “I felt like I’d made my choice, y’know?”

“…It was a long time ago, Bill.” Dom’s voice is deep and beautiful, and Billy feels the words like a blow. 

“Yeah.” He sighs and rubs his forehead. “Especially when you consider how old I am, hmm?” A sorry attempt at humour, but Dom snorts slightly anyway. “The thing is, Dom… the thing is, when I saw what a hard time he had of it, I mostly just felt glad it wasn’t me.”

“Shite, Billy, I know what it was like where you grew up.” Dom’s mug thuds down on the table a little harder than it should. “Or, well, no, I don’t—don’t have a clue. But you’ve told me, and said enough about being teased for wanting to act, that I can guess. So anyway, it just seems like—yeah, like no wonder you didn’t want to go that road.”

“I don’t know… I don’t know that I can now, either, though.” The tea is cooling, the mug losing its warmth under Billy’s palms and fingers. “I’m scared that I can’t.”

Dom inhales sharply, and Billy looks up at him. His face is set, jaw crooked and jutting. “Billy, you’re a long way from a Glasgow housing scheme—”

“No, listen. I’m scared that I can’t, and I’m scared of what you’ll want from me, now we’ve had—this. This _thing_ , together. What is it, anyway? I don’t know what you want from me, what you might expect or, or _need_. I feel like an idiot, to be saying this now, after the past two days and last night and this morning, I feel like I deserve to be shot for being an ungrateful bastard but I don’t know what this _is _, what this changes.” Billy clamps his mouth shut and realises his hands are white-knuckled on the cup.__

__Dom jumps up and goes to the sink—Billy watches his back, the way his shoulder blades press like wings against the thin fabric of his vest and how taut the lines of his neck and back are. Dom’s hands grip the edge of the counter and Billy feels like total and utter shit because he’s suddenly thinking about how it would look to take Dom from behind, to kneel behind him and push into him. _What the fuck is wrong with you?_ he wants to yell at himself, and all he can think to do is push the cup away and rest his head in his hands, stop looking at Dom’s back and stop thinking about how good it was._ _

__“You didn’t exactly fight me off,” Dom says finally._ _

__“I know—and I—fuck—” Billy presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “I’m sorry.”_ _

__“Sorry for what?” Dom turns, and the determination and pain in his eyes cut into Billy. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like it, Bill. Because you did. You’re not a girl, you can’t _fake it_.” He hisses the words, throws them hard._ _

__“I did like it and it scares the shit out of me!” Billy nearly shouts it, standing up. His voice is more panic than anger and Dom’s face reflects that, softening, the anger draining away as quickly as it came._ _

__“So you’re scared.” Dom’s hands find the counter behind him again, and Billy closes his eyes, not wanting to want him, not wanting to see how the shirt rides up slightly, the flat expanse of skin, dip of his navel, the narrow line of hair leading downward. “I’m scared, too.”_ _

__Billy stands still, eyes shut, trying to find equilibrium again. “You can’t be scared.”_ _

__He hears Dom’s movement, knows that he’s close._ _

__“I _am_ scared,” Dom says, low and earnest and Billy opens his eyes to see Dom standing across from him. “D’you know how long it took me to say something?”_ _

__“Elijah seemed to think it’d been a long time coming.” Billy feels his mouth wanting to quirk into a smile. Just Dom’s presence is calming him—not something that should be possible. Should it?_ _

__“Since New Zealand, Bill.” Dom looks down, his lashes dusty brown against the freckled skin of his cheeks. “But I was too scared—at first because you were a man, and then because you were _you_. And by the time I got over the fact that you didn’t have breasts—” He smiles, still not looking at Billy. “You had Ali.”_ _

__“I haven’t had Ali in eight months, Dom.” Billy points it out gently, not sure why._ _

__“Yeah.” Dom shuffles closer. He chews at his thumbnail._ _

__“And you’ve seen me twice since then.”_ _

__“I know.” Another shuffle and Dom’s right there, looking at the floor or Billy’s knees or something._ _

__Billy reaches out and pulls Dom into a loose, comfortable hug. “Fuck it,” Billy sighs, and he props his chin on Dom’s shoulder._ _

__Dom’s hands are trapped between their bodies; they twitch then still, curling into the front of Billy’s t-shirt. “I want whatever you’ll give me.”_ _

__Billy’s heart breaks, just a little, and he squeezes his eyes closed. “Oh, Dom.”_ _

__“It’s a lie, anyway.” Dom lifts his head and Billy has to open his eyes, needs to see what Dom offers. “I want all of it. All of you.” Fierce and certain—Dom is those things. And frightened and hurting, yes. Those, too._ _

__“You already have more than anyone else,” Billy whispers. It’s nothing but the truth._ _

__Dom smiles, crooked and a little sad. “So is it so hard, giving me the rest?” His eyes are blue and grey and Billy has never looked into them quite this deeply._ _

__Billy blinks and inhales; lets his breath out on a shuddering sigh. “I don’t know.” He tilts his head forward, rests his forehead against Dom’s. “I don’t know.” But Dom feels so right, so comfortable and home-like, leaning into Billy’s embrace, and Billy’s next words have the weary, well-worn feeling of inevitability. “Maybe I can try.”_ _


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovering, aaaaand: they stick the landing.

“Pros and cons,” Dom says, and Billy looks at him and raises an eyebrow. 

“I beg your pardon?” It’s sunny and cool, the light pouring down like honey over their little segment of the beach. Their boards and wetsuits are stowed in the trunk of Dom’s car, the sand washed from their bodies for the most part, although there seems to be a small deposit of it between Billy’s toes, and he sits down on the concrete to pull off one shoe. 

“Pros of going from best mates to, uh, lovers. Cons. Lay it out, Boyd.” Dom’s voice is bright and matter-of-fact, but all Billy can see of him is his feet and legs, weight shifting from one foot to the other and back.

Billy bangs his shoe on the sidewalk and pours out a few grains of sand before putting it back on; he stands up slowly. “Do we have to talk about this now?” he asks. They start walking again. 

“Yes, absolutely.” Dom jogs ahead, turns to walk backward in front of Billy, looking straight at him. After a day spent buying music and bickering gently and eating and surfing, their telepathy seems to be back, and Billy can read Dom’s mind (face, body) as easily as ever—cheeky and nervous, bravado over sheer terror. “We haven’t talked about it all day, Bill. So talk, dammit.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “Oh, for Chrissakes.”

“Pros,” Dom prompts him. “Wait, no, say the cons first.”

Billy looks past him. “You’re about to run into a trash bin,” he says, and Dom turns and dances around it, coming back to walk sedately at Billy’s side. “I’m hungry.” But Billy’s stomach is suddenly tight with anxiety.

“There’s a good place about a mile ahead, we can just keep walking,” Dom says. “Cons, Billy, come _on_ , quit being such a fucking pussy.”

“You’ve been in America too long,” Billy says, but Dom’s glare is sharper this time and he sighs. “Alright, cons. One.” He holds up on finger. “Perception. People freak out about this kind of shite. Friends, family, things like that.”

“Not everyone,” Dom says, but Billy knows and Dom knows it’s an evasion. “Yeah, alright. People do freak out. But fuck, it’s not like that’s ever stopped either of us from doing anything before. And this is too important to let other people decide for us.” Billy wants to look at his face, but the sun is low in the west, silhouetting him when Billy tries to turn his head and have a look at him. “Besides which, I don’t think anyone who really knows us would freak out for more than two minutes. Elwood as prime example.”

“True,” Billy concedes. “But another con, which I guess is really the same as that one, is career—this might mean no more romantic roles for either of us, which limits things quite a bit, especially for you, y’know.”

“Why especially for me?” Dom walks off the sidewalk, down toward the water, and Billy follows. There aren’t many people on the beach sidewalk in February on a Tuesday, but still. 

“Because you want, I dunno. You want all that shite with the fans and the girls and the magazines and the awards, Dom.” Billy’s twitted him about it often enough, but his voice isn’t teasing now. “You want all that attention, you need it, right? And I just don’t think that’ll happen if you come out and say, not only are you bi, but you’re involved with another man. Just the bisexual thing is fine, or not death, anyway, but unless you say you’re bi and date a woman, it’s poison.”

“Fuck that,” Dom says angrily, but both of them slow their pace. “And what about you? If it limited me, it would limit you, too, you know.”

“Dom, I don’t want or need the same things as you,” Billy says. “How many romantic leads have you seen me in recently, anyway? Or ever? I like the parts, but they don’t come along that often for a short 36-year-old with thinning hair and a face like mine.”

“Idiots,” Dom mutters, and Billy has to smile, recognizing the urge to kiss Dom right that instant. 

“Thanks for that,” he says instead, and Dom flashes a quick smile at him. “Seriously, though,” both their smiles fade, “I don’t know that I’ll have a lot of those roles anyway, and if I do they’ll mostly probably be in the theatre, which is a whole different world, really.”

“I know,” Dom says with a sigh. “But I still don’t care. This is important stuff, and I won’t let the world decide it for me any more than I’d let my parents’ disapproval decide it for me. If they disapproved, which they wouldn’t,” Dom adds. “They think the sun shines out of your arse, you great suck-up.”

Billy grins, complacent. “As they should,” he replies. “So alright, other cons—”

“Only personal ones,” Dom interrupts, low and serious. “I mean it. I won’t let anyone else decide this but you and me.”

Billy stops for a second, dizzied. Dom stops, too, looking straight at him, and for just an instant Billy tries to picture it, what it might mean to have all of Dom, to give all of himself back. He breathes deeply and forces himself to come back to the moment, though. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, and starts walking again. “So, ah, you and me. Cons.” He nods his head, looking at his legs, his jeans rolled up a little, bony pale ankles disappearing into his ratty trainers. “Alright.”

“If you can’t think of any, I’ll throw you down right here and give you a blowjob,” Dom murmurs, and Billy closes his eyes, walks blindly for a pace or three. 

“No fair,” he says, opening them again, smiling at the sand. “Shut up.”

“Just thinking ahead,” Dom says brightly. “To those pros, y’know.”

“Shut up,” Billy repeats. “Alright, con number three,” three fingers, “if we fuck it up we might not recover. As far as,” he gestures vaguely, “this. Us. Being friends.”

“Was that a ‘this, us, being friends’ motion?” Dom asks. He’s turned around again, walking backward beside Billy, hands thrust into his pockets and grinning wickedly. “I thought it was more of an ‘I’m all distracted by the idea of a blowjob on a public beach’ kind of motion.”

“Dominic,” Billy squeaks, half-laughing. “Give me a goddamn chance, would you?”

“I’m just saying,” Dom says. “Maybe you need to go back to school, take some movement classes. Gesturing is very important, you know?”

“So you’ve no answer for con number three, then?” Billy asks peevishly, wanting to laugh. “Because it’s kind of an important one.”

Dom pivots to walk normally again, shoulder bumping Billy’s with each stride. “Yeah, that’s kind of important,” he says. “And I, uh, I have an answer. But it might not make sense.”

“You never make sense.”

“Shut it.” Dom mock-scowls at him, and Billy’s stomach untwists a bit.

“It hasn’t stopped me from understanding you so far,” he says with a little smile.

“Alright, so. Um.” Dom is grinning like mad; he clears his throat and Billy fights back another laugh. “First of all, I don’t think we’d fuck it up. How long have we been saying that we’re perfect for one another? Remember that whole, _if Billy was a girl, I’d marry him right now_ , thing? I meant it then, and now I could even take out the sex-change operation part of it. Well.” He looks sheepish. “I could have taken it out then, too, but, erm. Yeah. Anyway. What I mean is,” he stops again, and Billy has to stop, too, has to face him. “And don’t, don’t tease me for this—” Billy shakes his head, and Dom glares at him for a second before going on— “What I mean is, I think that we’re, ah, we were meant to be— _meant_ to be, in the big sense? You know?” Billy nods, swallowing. “Meant to be together. And for a long time I thought we were just maybe meant to be together as friends. Which I still do, because, there’s—” Dom stops to breathe.

“It’s okay,” Billy says, hoping his voice is gentle enough.

“Okay.” Dom nods. “I still think we’re meant to be together as friends, because I don’t think other people—I don’t think they work together quite the way we do, Bill. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else—any two other people, right?—who just fit together like we do. And I don’t mean in a romantic way, I just mean—you know. Everything. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.” Billy knows. “I do, I understand exactly.”

“Okay, okay.” Dom grabs Billy’s hand. “For the longest time I thought that I was just confused, when I wanted to, to, _do_ stuff with you.” His fingers are warm and tight, his palm a little sweaty, pressed to Billy’s palm. “I had it all worked out, that we were such good friends that my brain, my body was just confused, thought something that meant so much should mean even more, and that’s why I wanted to kiss you, wanted to do everything we’ve done together,” his voice lowers, Billy’s eyes flick from Dom’s mouth to his eyes and back, “and more, y’know, there’s more stuff. I could do with you, could let you do with me.”

Billy’s hard in his jeans, abruptly, and he makes himself meet Dom’s gaze. “But you don’t think that anymore,” he says, and it’s not a question. “You don’t think you were confused.”

Dom shakes his head. “No. _No_ , are you kidding? That was, that sex—kissing you—Jesus. Jesus, Bill. That was the best sex I’ve ever had, seriously.” He smiles. “Really. Honestly. I don’t think I’m _that_ confused, to make a mistake about that. I think I was right all along, and I don’t think we’ll fuck this up.” He inhales deeply, slowly, still smiling a little into Billy’s eyes. “It felt natural to kiss you—like hugging you or breathing or talking to you. I don’t think we’ll mess up.”

“But.” Billy drops his gaze, squeezes Dom’s hand nervously.

“I know.” Dom squeezes back, then drops Billy’s hand self-consciously, touching his shoulder and starting to walk again, slowly, Billy beside him. “But you’re not as sure, I know.”

“I’m not, I mean, not _as_ sure...” Billy says helplessly. He wants to believe Dom, and some part of him already believes—believes the part about friendship with certainty, anyway, thank Christ for that. “I guess that’s my only real con. I mean, I could say I’m nervous about the sex, but obviously I’m not so nervous that I don’t want to have more.” Dom’s head whips around and he’s grinning again. “Oh, piss off,” Billy stutters, laughing, “don’t look so smug.”

“I can’t help it,” Dom rhapsodizes, hands clasped under his chin, eyes shining. “I’m going to get to shag you more!” He’s laughing, too, delighted and wicked, and Billy can’t help but roll his eyes and respond with a grin. 

“Where’s this restaurant you mentioned?” Billy asks, shoving Dom away. “I’m starving.”

“You’ll need your energy,” Dom says, leaping back to Billy’s side. “I’m going to wear you out.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Billy says lightly. “Not at all.” He shoots a sly look at Dom, who meets his gaze fearlessly, smiling at him with lust and love and, yeah, friendship in his eyes.

*

“You never named the pros,” Dom says, stuffing one more french fry into his mouth.

Billy doesn’t pretend not to know what he’s talking about. “Oh, well,” he says, lowering his voice: “If I carry on a passionate love affair with you, I get to sit and watch you chew with your mouth open for the rest of my life.” He neatly spears his last bite of steak and pops it into his mouth.

Dom displays the mangled bits of his food for Billy and then swallows. “You get that even if I never blow you again,” he says matter-of-factly. “But what else, come on. Let’s get to the good stuff.”

“Let’s pay and start walking again before you inform the rest of the waitstaff about your intentions toward my dick,” Billy replies, rolling his eyes, and a few minutes later they’re back on the beach, sun gone, the air chillier than before. “S’it safe to walk here after dark?” Billy says, and Dom shrugs and nods.

“Safe as anywhere else in L.A. after dark.”

“How reassuring.” They stick to the sidewalk this time, and move more quickly. Billy shivers slightly and bumps into Dom on purpose, to feel how warm he is. “I wish I could do that.”

“Do what? And c’mon, pros, please.” Dom snaps his fingers demandingly.

“Be so warm all the time,” Billy says. “And fine. Pro number one,” the finger he holds up glows orange as they walk under a streetlamp, “we’d get to spend more time together.”

“That would be excellent,” Dom agrees. “Though I guess we’d still have to work out all the details and such.”

“Like where we’d live,” Billy nods. “Or if we’d live together at all. Or how often we’d see each other... Christ. Put that on the con list.”

“No, no,” Dom says quickly. “Stuff like that isn’t on the pro or con list. It’s details. Keep going.”

Billy bumps Dom’s shoulder harder. “It’s important, though. That kind of shite can break relationships.”

“But first you have to _have_ a relationship,” Dom insists, lurching sideways to crash into Billy. “Keep going.”

“Alright.” Billy sighs, thinks, walks. “Ehm, get to see the looks on people’s faces when we tell them.”

“They’ll all act insufferable and like they knew it was coming,” Dom said.

“Yeah, but still. You get that split-second ‘oh my god, are they taking the piss?’ look, first. And then if we snogged each other really good and hard and long, we could probably get some of them to pass out.” Billy sounds positively gleeful.

“Excellent point. Oooh,” Dom said, “think of all the fangirls who would be delighted. Their every fantasy come true, we’d be.”

“A big pro,” Billy laughed. “We might break the Internet if we ever kissed on camera.”

“Although Elijah’s heart will be broken,” Dom sighed, swooning for an instant. “According to the internet, that is.”

“Mm, yeah.” Billy nodded. “Shame about that.”

“Alright, come on, another pro. Fuck, walk faster, I want to get to the car.” Dom trots ahead, then lags to let Billy catch up at his steady, fast walk. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”

“Alright. Pro number, ah, three? Yeah. Pro number three: Lots of sex. You’ll be the only person I’ve ever dated whose libido was as strong as mine.”

“That’s just sad, Billy,” Dom says cheerfully. He hooks his arm through Billy’s. “Look, I can see the carpark. You should have known some of the girls I have.” He shakes his head, laughing.

“You’re thinking of men, Dominic,” Billy says dryly. “I don’t know. I mean, Ali—no, I shouldn’t— Well. Yes. Well. With every woman I’ve dated for more than a few months, the sex got less frequent. Not because I wanted it to, either. I think women just get used to it, maybe? Or maybe just the women I’ve dated,” he adds candidly. “But I think—and you’d have to be the one to prove me right or wrong—I think with men maybe there’d be more sex.” He scratches his head. “Makes sense to me, anyway.”

“I don’t think it’s a male-female thing,” Dom says, unhooking his arm from Billy’s and digging for his keys. “I think you’ve just had bad luck. Although I do think,” he unlocked the doors and they got in, “I think you’re right that I have a strong sex drive.”

“Well, then,” Billy says. “Let’s go home and you can prove it.”

*

“Anybody here?” Dom calls as he steps through the front door. Billy snorts. “Helloooo? Elijah?”

“The door was locked,” Billy says. “And besides, wasn’t he going out of town today?”

“Hope so,” Dom says. He flicks on the hall light and strides ahead. “Lock the door, will you?” Billy does as he’s asked and follows Dom into the house.

“What do you want to do?” Billy asks.

Dom’s waiting for him in the lounge, eyes and teeth gleaming in the faint light from the hallway behind them. “Prove my sex drive to you?”

“I could, ah,” Billy inhales nervously and tries to smile. “I could probably stand that. I guess.”

“Such enthusiasm,” Dom teases. “C’mere.”

“Okay,” Billy says, but his feet don’t want to move. “Um.”

“I’ll come there,” Dom says. He comes slowly, still smiling, but it’s softer now and Billy feels his shoulders ease slightly, lowering. “I don’t have to prove anything to you, you know,” Dom says. He’s very close, though, closer than people get—only lovers, Billy thinks dizzily. Only lovers stand so close to one another. 

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” Billy agrees. Dom’s head is tilted, eyes dark and unfathomable in the faint light. Billy reaches up and curls his fingers over Dom’s shoulder—rubs his thumb gently over Dom’s collarbone. “But maybe we could, y’know. Have sex anyway.”

“That’ll do,” Dom says.

They try to go slowly but it doesn’t last—Dom on his knees, back to Billy and hands gripping the headboard as Billy pushes in... It’s irresistible, the way Dom’s head falls forward, the way his back arches and how his body feels, clamped down around Billy’s cock. Billy strokes in slow and slick, it’s dark in Dom’s bedroom, the heat pouring off their skin in waves, every place they touch—hands, thighs, hips, cock, arse—growing slippery with sweat. “Harder,” Dom growls, and Billy leans forward. Dom’s neck tastes of salt and the sea and Billy wraps his arms around Dom and lets go, gives in: _fucks_ him. Hard, fast and desperate, both of them sobbing for breath, Dom’s hand working his cock as Billy holds him tightly from behind, only his hips moving, pistoning into Dom again and again until Billy’s lost, he’s coming, mouth open and crying out Dom’s name. Billy comes to rest still kneeling, still buried within Dom, and closes his eyes, panting for breath against Dom’s shoulder blade until he feels Dom’s body stiffen and shake, until Dom groans his release, body clenching tight around the almost unbearably sensitive flesh of Billy’s cock.

“Fuck,” Dom pants, suddenly sway-backed, sagging forward so Billy slides from his body. “Billy, c’mon, lay down...” Dom slithers down, pulling Billy with him until they’re sprawled beside one another, Dom’s out-flung arms and legs heavy atop Billy’s stomach and thighs.

“That was good,” Billy says to the ceiling, and Dom laughs breathlessly. 

“It was, yeah,” he says. “Messy, and sweaty, and good.” He sounds smug and delighted and Billy laughs, too.

They lie companionably in silence for a time. 

“I can see why people smoke, after sex,” Dom says.

“Except that it smells awful.” Billy stretches and scratches his scalp. “Christ, we need a shower.”

“I think I still have sand stuck to me.” Dom’s hand slides slowly across Billy’s stomach and then lower, to his hip. “Would say it’s up me arse, but I’m reasonably sure that wouldn’t have felt so good if it was true.” He cups Billy’s soft penis gently.

Billy squirms. “Definitely no sand up your arse.”

“You checked carefully?” Dom rolls to his side and Billy turns his head to look into his eyes. 

“Very carefully.” He keeps his face straight. “In depth.”

“Phew.” Dom’s gusty breath is cool across Billy’s face. “ _I’ll_ say.” They grin at the same time. 

Billy closes his eyes; he’s almost asleep when Dom’s voice vibrates in his ear. “Billy Boyd,” he sing-songs.

“What?” Billy’s lips twitch, trying not to smile.

“Billy, will you be my boyfriend?” Dom sounds like he wants desperately to laugh, but when Billy opens his eyes and looks at him, Dom’s face is soft and nearly serious; he’s smiling, but it’s not quite amusement curving his lips.

“I’ll need to have that written in my notebook, with two little boxes under it for Yes or No.” Billy can’t control the way his guts knot up, or how his eyes flicker away, but he keeps his voice light.

Dom shifts closer, and his nose presses into Billy’s shoulder; his face is hidden. “There’s a Maybe box, too, usually.”

“Think it’s a bit late for Maybe,” Billy says. He takes a deep breath and rolls to face Dom, scooting downward until they’re nose to nose. “Think possibly... possibly there’s been a bit too much sex for No.”

Dom starts smiling.

Billy raises an eyebrow, and his voice is dry: “Think I’m a little old to be anyone’s boyfriend, too, but that’s as may be.” He lays one hand along Dom’s cheek. “It frightens me half t’death, Dommie, but I do trust you.”

“That’s half of it,” Dom says. His face is intent, happy. “You know, I mean—” He takes a deep breath. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah.” Billy smiles, finally, relief flooding him for some reason. “Always known that.”

“Always?” Dom throws an arm and leg over Billy and rolls them both over so he’s looking down at Billy. 

“Well, at least since you helped me glue Elijah’s hands together.” Billy’s hands seem to want to slide up and down Dom’s back.

“And Orli didn’t think it would work.” Dom leans down and kisses Billy’s chin tenderly. “Why, why did he bunk off?”

“He was sure Elijah would see us and wake up, because he does that freaky eyes-open thing when he sleeps.” Billy tilts his head back and sighs as Dom’s lips press to the tender skin beneath his jaw. “Mmm.”

“That’s right.” Dom’s mouth is moving down, body shifting slightly as he sucks gently on Billy’s neck. “And when did you know _you_ loved _me_?”

“First blow job?” Billy hazards. He squeaks as Dom bites. “I don’t know. Always, I guess. Since the beginning. Knew I loved you as a friend, anyway. Not really too hard, I guess, to let it be something else. More.”

“This is a girly fucking conversation,” Dom comments as he lifts his head to look Billy in the eye.

“Hey, you asked.” Billy smirks. “Anyway, I think we’re allowed.”

“Allowed anything we want,” Dom murmurs. He looks dizzy, a little, and as Billy watches him, grinning, he laughs. “Anything we want, Bill.”

“What if I want to shag again?” Billy hears himself say, and it’s true that he wants to, true that his body is reacting to Dom’s, rousing and warm and angular atop him. True, too, that Billy wants to go slow this time, wants to look into Dom’s face as they move together. Billy wants to see Dom come apart, wants to see him let go and set himself free and come with Billy inside his body. Billy’s still scared, still unsure, but he wants that. Needs it, maybe, and when Dom lowers his head to kiss him again, face pink and delighted and warm, Billy closes his eyes and lets his hands slide up Dom’s back to his skull, fingers pushing through soft lank hair, and Billy sighs.

“I do love you, Dom,” he says when they stop to breathe, and Dom’s forehead falls to bump lightly against his. 

Dom breathes in and then out, warm across Billy’s mouth. “I do love you, too.” 

When Billy opens his eyes Dom has lifted his head again and they spend a minute just looking at each other. Billy can feel himself blushing, feel the grin creeping across his face. “What?” he finally asks.

Dom is grinning, too. “All the sex definitely goes on the pros list.”

“Definitely.” Billy pulls him down.


End file.
